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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685349">Inhibitions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas'>quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilvermalec'>quicksilvermalec</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sastiel Big Bang 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Angels, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Black Lives Matter, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, Castiel is a Novak (Supernatural), Drug Use, Endverse Castiel - Freeform, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Castiel, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Good Brother Gabriel, Grief, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lawyer Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mentions of Corrective Rape, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Negative Religious Experiences, Offscreen character death, POV Castiel, Pansexual Gabriel, Pansexual Sam Winchester, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Gabriel, Protests, Religious Sam Winchester, Sad Castiel, Sad Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Trauma, Widowed Castiel, breaking up, enjoy!!, kind of a wild ride with plenty of twists, lawyer AU, minor explicit sexual content, this story is all over the fuckin place</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilvermalec</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So Castiel isn't the most - moral? Conventional? Call it what you like - attorney, but fuck if he isn't one of the best in the state of California. He's gone up against lawyers from all over and only lost a handful of cases in twenty years. So when a young up-and-comer beats him in a case he should have bagged, of course he's interested. But he wasn't expecting <em>this</em>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Crowley, Castiel &amp; Gabriel, Castiel &amp; Sam Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester &amp; Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sastiel Big Bang 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sastiel Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfleetcadet1/gifts">Starfleetcadet1</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, everyone. Welcome to my third and final big bang fic for this round.</p><p>This fic... I started this fic in May, and finished it five days ago. It's taken me four months of hard work and relentless dedication to this story to make sure it got finished in time for posting, and I did it. I consider this piece my masterwork, and I am so incredibly proud to have finished it and humbled to be able to share it with you all. I hope it moves you as much as it moved me.</p><p>I'll try to be around more now that I've finished the Bang 😅 I know I sort of went radio silent at the end of last year, but I'm hoping to start writing and posting more frequently now.</p><p>Enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“The defense rests, Your Honor.”</p><p>Castiel watches the defense attorney sit from across the room. Sam Winchester is his name. He’s a tall man with long brown hair that looks soft to the touch and eyes with a sheen of gentility that masks incredible intelligence underneath. Castiel can’t seem to decide what color they are; within a moment they’ve gone from brown to green to blue.</p><p>If they two weren’t opposing each other on this case, Castiel might have approached him in a friendly manner, or even a romantic one. But alas, the prosecution cannot fraternize with the defense.</p><p>“The prosecution rests as well, Your Honor,” he says to the entire courtroom.</p><p>The judge adjourns and the jury meets to determine the verdict. Castiel goes outside for a smoking break.</p><p>He leans against the wall, blunt in hand, and considers the case. The defendant is obviously innocent, anyone with a pair of eyes and four brain cells between their ears could see that. She did nothing but exercise her First Amendment right to protest while law enforcement was committing horrific genocide against her community and was arrested for standing on the street and also being a black woman. But Castiel is a good lawyer, and he can make a case from next to nothing. He’s done it before and won. He’s one of the best prosecuting attorneys in the state. He was hired for this job, and as much as he despises painting himself as one of those people who believes in white supremacy and supports the police department, he doesn’t want to risk losing his job at the firm by declining this case.</p><p>He’s never even <em>heard </em>of a Sam Winchester, but from what Castiel has seen in this one trial this man is a brilliant lawyer and he’s representing this young woman excellently. Castiel has no idea what the verdict will be, but Sam Winchester sure gave him a good fight if nothing else.</p><p>The jury is only out for forty minutes. He assumes that means this will go in his favor. He forces himself to keep a straight face as they return to the courtroom to hear the verdict.</p><p>A young man on the jury stands up and declares, “the jury finds the defendant not guilty on all charges.”</p><p>Castiel’s jaw drops. He lost. He lost this case to this young man he’s never met. This Sam Winchester kid, probably fresh out of law school from the look of him, brilliant enough to take on seasoned lawyer Castiel Novak and win.</p><p>This is a man with skills. This man is a sharp, well-maintained weapon of a lawyer, and he is a weapon that Novak Represents Law Firm definitely needs in their arsenal. If Michael and Lucifer were here to see this, Castiel knows they would say the same thing.</p><p>“Cleared of all charges,” he says happily to the defendant, shaking her hand. “I’m happy for you.”</p><p>She looks bemused. “Aren’t you the one making the case against me? Why would you be happy to lose?”</p><p>He laughs. “I’m happy to lose, darling, because I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong either. I didn’t ask to represent your opposition in court, the higher-ups, my big brothers, told me to. And in this town, nothing my big brothers say goes undone. But you obviously chose the right lawyer. How much did he cost?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “Actually, he offered to represent me for free.”</p><p>Castiel raises his eyebrows. “He’s going pro bono work?”</p><p>She nods eagerly. “For all the protestors. Anyone who’s protesting for BLM, black, white, or anything else, who gets arrested, he’ll represent them.”</p><p>“Huh,” is all Castiel can think to say. Sam Winchester must be either very well off, supported by his family, or just a damn good but absolutely foolish person. No working-class man, not even a lawyer, can get off with doing pro bono work in the American capitalist society.</p><p>He’s going to want to speak to her lawyer.</p><p>~~</p><p>He gets the chance much sooner than he expected. He’s pacing the hallway outside of the courtroom waiting for Gabriel when the door opens and there in his face is a tall, brilliant, even more gorgeous up close defense attorney. “Hello,” Castiel manages to say, sounding awkward and shaken. “I’m Castiel Novak, the prosecution on this case.”</p><p>“I know,” the other lawyer replies. “I’ve seen you work. I studied you in school.”</p><p>“You- you <em>studied </em>me? How so?”</p><p>“With videos, mostly,” the other guy says, laughing. “I watched videos of your cases and wrote long-ass fucking papers on them.” He seems to come back to himself and sticks out a hand. “Sam Winchester.”</p><p>Castiel grins as he takes it, shaking a couple of times. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Sam Winchester.”</p><p>Sam’s small smile lights up his entire face, tiny crow’s feet appearing at the edges of his eyes and his dimples making an appearance. <em>Oh god</em>. “I can’t believe I’m meeting you in person,” he confesses. “I’ve been dying to for years, but I always assumed you were too busy to talk to a nervous fanboy.” Sam is still holding Castiel’s hand.</p><p>That makes Castiel chuckle. “No, you don’t strike me as nervous or a fanboy, just a man who went to law school for long enough to get over to shmucks like me.” He reluctantly pulls his hand away to retrieve his blunt. “You wanna hit?”</p><p>“You smoke weed bookending cases?” Sam asks. “What’s up with you, man?”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “I enjoy my highs. It’s not exactly a sin, Sam Winchester. It’s legal.”</p><p>Sam snorts. “Well. Good to know, I guess. No thanks, I’m not a marijuana guy.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Castiel asks. “Then please, tell me. What is your poison?”</p><p>“I don’t do drugs,” Sam says instantly. “I’m not opposed to the occasional drink, though. Usually beer, although every once in a while I’ll do vodka shots or down some whiskey.”</p><p>Castiel nods. “Alright,” he murmurs. “How old are you?”</p><p>Sam looks taken aback. “Uh… thirty. You?”</p><p>That actually makes Castiel laugh. “Forty-one next week.” Sam manages to look somehow even more surprised.</p><p>“Forty?” he asks incredulously. “You look…”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Castiel encourages him. “Say it. Whatever you’ve got, I’ve heard worse.”</p><p>“I was going to say thirty-three.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Thirty-three? That’s one I haven’t heard before. Do I really have that much of a youthful glow about me?”</p><p>Sam shakes his head, chuckling. “I shouldn’t have said anything, forget it, man.”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “If you say so. I, uh… I did have a question for you. That young woman said you were representing her – and any and all Black Lives Matter protestors who ask you – pro bono. Is that true?”</p><p>Sam nods, licking his lips nervously. “Yeah, I’m a big supporter of the movement and I can’t do a lot to help… financially right now, so I’m doing this instead. This seems like a way I can make an impact, you know?”</p><p>The older lawyer smiles softly. “I do know. But how do you manage to support yourself if you aren’t receiving any income from cases at the moment?”</p><p>Sam shrugs. “My brother helps out a bit, you know. I have some money in savings, and an EBT card so food’s not that big of an issue most of the time. It’s just about keeping up the rent on my firm and my house.”</p><p>“Do you run your own firm?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam replies. “I opened it up about a year ago, won a pretty big case, got some money and fame from that, at least enough to get clients. I don’t charge a whole lot and I’m independent, smart enough to balance my own books and everything, so I don’t need a staff, really. What you see is what you get.”</p><p>Castiel nods, impressed. “That’s admirable of you. Do you have a card?”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Sam. “Here.” He hands over a plain but pleasing business card. <strong>Sam Winchester, S.J.D.</strong> A phone number and a fax. He has a <em>fax machine?</em> No one has used those since the nineties, especially not thirty-year-olds who were barely alive in the nineties.</p><p>“Thank you,” Castiel replies. “I might be in touch. Would that be alright?”</p><p>“<em>Alright</em>?” Sam asks incredulously. “Did I not already tell you that you’re basically my hero and the lawyer I’ve been following basically my entire life?”</p><p>Castiel shakes his head, wearing an amused expression. “No, in fact, you did not tell me that.”</p><p>Sam flushes. “Oh,” he whispers. “Well, you are, and I really- yes, it would be fine if you contacted me.”</p><p>Castiel laughs gently. “That’s good. I would very much like to.” He glances at his watch. “It’s past time for me to go, but hopefully we’ll talk again soon.” He takes another drag on his blunt and winks at Sam before disappearing off in the direction of his car.</p><p>He’ll have quite a lot of fun with this boy, he doesn’t doubt it for a second.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You sound biased,” Michael says coolly when Castiel comes down from his rant about how fantastically amazing Sam is.</p><p>“You sound enchanted,” Lucifer adds, smirking mildly and leaning back in his office chair with his feet up on the table as he smokes a cigarette. Castiel was never fond of tobacco, but he did pick up his smoking habit from his older brother, there’s no denying that.</p><p>“You sound like you’re in love,” Gabriel teases, grinning openly at Castiel. He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table, staring his younger brother down with a challenging glint in his eyes. Castiel ignores him in favor of pacing the length of the room again, gesticulating wildly.</p><p>They’re sitting in the meeting room at the top of Novak Represents, Inc. Michael, as always, sits at the head of the table with an air of superiority about him that few other people can pull off, as if he believes (and Castiel knows for a fact he does) that he is irrefutably <em>better</em> than anyone and everyone else in the room. Lucifer sits at his right hand, blond and nonchalant and casual as ever in a professional environment. He couldn’t be less like his only older brother if he tried. Gabriel is at his side, hair styled in a very specific way but wearing streetclothes (rather than the light gray business suits everyone else is wearing) because, as always, Gabriel is focusing on all of the wrong things. Castiel’s spot across from Lucifer, directly to Michael’s left, is vacant as Castiel paces. Balthazar is lounging in his seat across from Gabriel, resting his feet on Castiel’s empty chair, his bright orange socks peeking out from underneath his dress shoes.</p><p>“If you had seen him, Michael—believe me, you would be enchanted too,” Castiel insists. “He’s brilliant, I’m telling you. You haven’t heard him speak in court but he uses his voice so eloquently and he’s prepared for every eventuality. I threw everything I had at him and he never once looked ruffled or worried in the slightest, I mean…” Castiel scoffs. “He was confident to the end. And he exudes this… this energy, he just has this air about him that makes you want to trust him.”</p><p>“No, I agree with Gabe, you sound like you’re lovestruck, lil bro,” Lucifer laughs. “Listen to this! He’s in love with a rival lawyer, a guy he’s barely met. How old is he? You cradle-robbing again?”</p><p>“Alright, Meg was <em>not</em> a child—” Castiel defends himself, but Luke cuts him off.</p><p>“She was close enough, she was what? Twenty-five? You were thirty-two. That’s legal, yeah, but right? I doubt it.”</p><p>“Okay, since when do you care about what’s right?” Gabriel jeers at him.</p><p>“This isn’t the point I’m trying to make, gentlemen!” Castiel shouts over them, but the room is so chaotic no one seems able to hear him. Lucifer and Gabriel have devolved into one of their famed screaming matches and no one will be able to stop them. Hell, Balthazar’s even getting in on the action instead of even trying.</p><p>“Cassie’s in his forties now, you can’t honestly expect—”</p><p>“Him to be lying, I mean come on, it’s Castiel! He knows—”</p><p>“How to bring people over to our side, he’s brilliant at recruitment that way but—”</p><p>“His love life has nothing to do with this you absolute prick, he’s just—”</p><p>“Doing his job like a good little soldier, isn’t that right Cassie darling? You’re—”</p><p>“All of you shut up!” Michael bellows. The room goes silent. “Castiel, if you truly believe that this man will be an asset to our company worth our time and effort, get me a video of him presenting or something, anything that will sway me toward employing another defense attorney. Until then, we will not be doing anything of the kind!”</p><p>Castiel bows his head slightly. “Understood,” he replies coldly. His mood has been significantly ruined by his brothers and cousin fighting. “Will there be anything else? <em>Sir</em>?”</p><p>Gabriel slaps a hand over his mouth to hide the very obvious OOOOHHHHH that wants to come out, and Michael gives Castiel an even, unimpressed look. “No, Castiel. You are free to go.”</p><p>Castiel forces a small smile, hoping to smooth over some of this, and leaves the room. He can’t help feeling as though he’s caused some damage, even though today is no different from any other day in the Head Offices of Novak Represents. Lucifer and Gabriel wouldn’t know the definition of professional if it tap-danced on their balls, and Balthazar loves to exacerbate things.</p><p>Now he’ll just have to hope that he can convince Michael to allow him to offer Sam a position.</p><p>~~</p><p>“No further questions, Your Honor.”</p><p>At 38:42 of 39:02, Castiel pauses the video. “Look at that. Are you fucking kidding me? And that’s not even with the feeling of being in the same room as him. We <em>need </em>him, Michael.”</p><p>Michael purses his lips, humming quietly to himself. “You are not wrong, he is a very talented attorney.”</p><p>“He would be an incredible asset to us!” Castiel exclaims. “Please, Michael, at least come hear him speak.”</p><p>Michael shakes his head. “I trust you,” he decides, sighing. “I am sure that that is an idiotic decision on my part and I guarantee you that this will backfire one way or another, but you may extend him an offer.”</p><p>Castiel relaxes in relief. “Thank you,” he manages, ignoring the other parts of that sentence. His brothers never did see his value as a person or as a lawyer, none of them but Gabriel. “I’m glad you’ve come around.” He leaves Michael in peace with his thoughts, disappearing outside to smoke.</p><p>“Hey, Cassie boy!” Castiel chuckles as he leans his head against the wall.</p><p>“Hello, Gabriel,” he replies just as cheerfully. “Which sewer did you crawl out of this time?”</p><p>Gabriel sticks out his tongue at his brother. “I just came from my house.”</p><p>“Oh,” Castiel murmurs. “That sewer. Or, I suppose landfill. Your house seems to identify more as a landfill.”</p><p>“I hate you. Make any progress with Michael?”</p><p>“Indeed I have,” Castiel replies, grinning. “He agreed that I have permission to make Sam Winchester an offer and foolishly did not specify the parameters of this offer, so I am going to present him with what may quite possibly be considered an insane sum of money that he could not possibly turn down, especially not in the financial situation that he is in, and lure him over to us.”</p><p>“What’s his financial situation?” Gabe asks curiously.</p><p>“He runs his own firm, has no staff, and can barely manage rent and upkeep on his firm as well as rent and utilities on his house. He is not very well-off and needs support from his brother.”</p><p>“How did you <em>know</em> about his financial situation?”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “He and I spoke, he mentioned it in passing.”</p><p>“Who talks about being poor and barely above the poverty line <em>in passing</em>?”</p><p>The younger Novak rolls his eyes. “Sam Winchester, obviously. I don’t know what to tell you, Gabriel, he just did.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs. “Alright, I believe you.”</p><p>Castiel takes a long drag on his weed. “Thanks, brother.”</p><p>“Why are you so obsessed with him?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Castiel admits. “There’s something about him, something that’s telling me I really shouldn’t let him get away.”</p><p>“Like Fate,” Gabe replies, utterly deadpan.</p><p>“Yes!” Castiel says, snapping his fingers and taking another puff.</p><p>“I always forget that you believe in shit like Fate,” Gabe mutters, and Castiel looks offended.</p><p>“We were raised as good, Christian little boys, and—”</p><p>“And our father was a massive homophobe and a total douchebag who can fuck himself on a cactus for all I fucking care!” Gabe shoots back. “I don’t believe in the Christian God. Or any God. I’m an atheist, and nothing is gonna take that away from me.”</p><p>Castiel chuckles and shakes his head. “No one is trying to, Gabriel. Alright? No one.”</p><p>Gabriel nods. “I… yeah, I know. I’m sorry Cas. I’m just…”</p><p>“Tense,” Castiel offers. “Lucifer and Michael fighting is never fun. It makes everything more difficult to deal with.”</p><p>Gabriel scoffs his agreement. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Those two need to just pound it out already.”</p><p>“They are <em>brothers</em>, Gabriel,” Castiel reminds him in amusement. “Brothers do not ‘pound it out.”</p><p>“Come <em>on</em>!” Gabe exclaims incredulously. “You can’t tell me you can’t see the UST there, can you?”</p><p>“No, of course I cannot tell you that,” Castiel replies evenly. “But that does not change the fact that it is <em>against the law </em>for two people related by blood to have sexual relations with each other. We work for a law firm, a law firm that was established by them.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs. “Yeah, but it’s annoying as all fuck.”</p><p>Castiel shrugs, tossing his weed on the concrete. “I won’t argue with you there.”</p><p>Gabe shrugs as well. “Good,” he says, like he has nothing else to say. Castiel rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Why did you come out here, Gabriel?”</p><p>Gabe shakes his head. “Cause I wanted to be around you,” he says honestly. “Cause I love you.”</p><p>“Wow, no ulterior motives this time. I’m flattered.” Castiel gives him an amused and mildly condescending look, but softens after a moment. “I love you too.”</p><p>“Wanna come home with me?”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “Sure,” he manages. “Let’s head out.”</p><p>Gabriel manages to get his arm around Cas’s shoulders, albeit awkwardly, which leads to Castiel lifting him up and carrying him down the street, his brother shrieking from his position in Castiel’s arms all the way to Gabriel’s home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tea?” Gabriel asks in amusement as his brother sits down on his couch.</p>
<p>“That would be lovely, darling,” says an admittedly very high Castiel in his best impression of Balthazar.</p>
<p>Gabriel snorts, disappearing into the kitchen to make it. Castiel has always been one hundred percent positive that if not for the fact that he greatly enjoyed tea, especially when he was high, Gabriel would never have it in his house. However, thanks to the fact that Castiel very much did enjoy it, Gabriel somehow never ran out. It’s quite miraculous and wonderful.</p>
<p>Castiel laughs nigh hysterically on the couch until Gabriel returns. “Alright, crazy boy, get your stoned ass over here and drink this tea I just made for you.”</p>
<p>“But Gaaaaabriel,” Castiel chuckles. “Gabriel. <em>Gay</em>briel. Are you gay?”</p>
<p>“No,” Gabriel says, sounding unamused but resigned. “I’m pansexual. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Castiel replies. “Well that’s kinda like gay.”</p>
<p>“No, <em>you’re </em>gay. I’m LGBT.”</p>
<p>He shrugs. “Whatever. Same difference. Ooh, tea!” Castiel reaches for his mug and slops some of the tea onto his leg. He doesn’t even notice in his hurry to drink it. “Ah! It’s hot! What the fuck!”</p>
<p>He puts it back down. “How dare you bring me something <em>hot</em>?”</p>
<p>“Did you want cold tea, Castiel?” Gabriel asks, sounding resigned and exhausted.</p>
<p>“I- yes? No. What’s the right answer?”</p>
<p>“I think you need sleep,” Gabriel mutters. “Here’s a blanket.” He tosses it at Castiel and it hits the younger Novak in the face.</p>
<p>“No,” Castiel whines. “I don’t wanna.”</p>
<p>“Jesus <em>Christ</em>,” Gabriel declares as Castiel tosses the blanket onto the floor. Gabe watches his brother stand up with hollow, miserable eyes.</p>
<p>Then Castiel looks down, then back at Gabriel accusatorily. “My leg is wet!” he shouts. “Why the fuck is my leg wet, Gabriel? What did you do? Did you spit on my leg?”</p>
<p>Gabriel takes a deep breath, dragging the palm of his left hand down his face. “No, Castiel,” he says as patiently as possible. “You spilled tea on yourself.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Cas. He picks up his tea again. “Still hot. I’m still mad at you!”</p>
<p>Gabriel groans and lays back. “Dear god,” he mutters to the ceiling. “Why does this always happen to me, and never to any of my brothers.”</p>
<p>It might be Castiel’s imagination, but he thinks he hears a voice reply, <em>because Castiel actually trusts you.</em></p>
<p>He may be wasted and useless, but he knows the voice of God when he hears it.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>
  <strong>You’re a dick.</strong>
</p>
<p>That’s all the text says. Castiel scoffs and shoves his phone back in his pocket after he reads it.</p>
<p>He knows he’s a dick. Gabriel has made himself quite clear on that on several occasions. Plus, Castiel is on a mission right now; a mission to recruit himself a new, brilliant attorney.</p>
<p>When he walks into Sam’s office, the other man is on the phone.</p>
<p>“Yes, Dean,” he’s saying. “I know you need me to cover the water bill. I’ll have it by the end of the month, I just don’t have it now. Yeah, I’ll get paid! I get paid in like two weeks. Okay? I’m gonna get almost three thousand dollars then and we’ll be able to cover rent and utilities. Jesus- yes, I can hear you yelling at me- oh my god. Dean- look, Dean, you know that attorney I ‘fangirl’ over all the time? Yeah, he just walked into my office. I’ll call you back.”</p>
<p>He hangs up without saying goodbye, then mutters, “fucking asshole.”</p>
<p>Castiel snorts. “Who was that?”</p>
<p>“Older brother,” Sam replies quietly. “Dean. He’s… kind of a dick sometimes. I love the shit out of him, and he’s a good guy, but he just doesn’t know how to be… not intense. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘moderation’, I guess.” He trails off, then seems to come back to himself, snapping to attention. “Anyway, I’m oversharing again. What’s up?”</p>
<p>Castiel smiles. “I have an offer to make you.”</p>
<p>Sam blinks. “Hm?”</p>
<p>“Would you like to work for Novak Represents as a defense attorney? We’ll be paying you about seven thousand five hundred dollars a month to start off, you’ll be assigned regular cases, benefits, paid paternity leave, the whole shebang. What do you say?”</p>
<p>Sam worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ll consider it.”</p>
<p>Castiel winks at him. “Get back to me within a week and we’ll be just fine.”</p>
<p>Sam flushes and stares down at his desk until Castiel disappears out the door.</p>
<p>He pulls out his blunt – he can’t be found almost anywhere without one in hand – and lights it as he walks back to his car. He’ll simply have to hope that Sam accepts his offer.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>He arrives at home safely – as always, despite Gabriel’s insistence that smoking while driving <em>impairs </em>him and that he’ll most definitely crash his car one day – and puts the kettle on, as is his routine. He sighs, falling into a chair and rubbing his forehead. It might just be age, but he’s more and more exhausted lately, as if every small thing he does expends three times as much energy as it did a decade ago. As if his life is perpetually making itself harder.</p>
<p>He turns on the TV, tosses his used blunt, takes off his shoes, and returns to the kitchen as the kettle whistles its warning. As he sets about making his tea, his mind wanders back to Sam.</p>
<p>Sam Winchester. The boy who could run the world if he set his mind to it. The boy who owns a firm at the age of thirty. The most skilled <em>and </em>talented lawyer Castiel has ever had the immense pleasure of meeting. Most people don’t have both.</p>
<p>Sam Winchester.</p>
<p>What is it about Sam Winchester that Castiel finds so fascinating?</p>
<p>It’s not simply his looks; looks have never been that important to Castiel, although he won’t deny that Sam is attractive. It’s not simply his competence in the courtroom, although that is certainly a major factor.</p>
<p>There’s something <em>about </em>him. Something… unique. Something that draws Castiel toward him, but he couldn’t identify it if he wanted to. Something-</p>
<p>“Ah! Fuck!” he shouts, pulling his burned hand away. “Goddammit.” He sets down the kettle and turns to the sink, running his hand under the cool flow of water.</p>
<p>Let this be a lesson, he tells himself. You cannot afford to get distracted in this job or this life. Not even by young, mysterious, attractive defense attorneys.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>“Castiel!” shouts an enthusiastic – if aggravated – voice from outside.</p>
<p>Oh, fuck.</p>
<p>That would be Kevin.</p>
<p>“Come on, Castiel,” adds another, this one reproachful.</p>
<p>
  <em>Lovely.</em>
</p>
<p>And Anna.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” he yells in the general direction of the window.</p>
<p>Kevin and Anna are two young people who live on his block. (Fuck him for calling them ‘young people’, he’s forty, not <em>sixty.</em>) Kevin’s in undergrad, almost 20 (he’s half Castiel’s age. <em>Half!</em>) and Anna’s twenty-six and working on her doctorate. They like to come around and bother him. Sometimes they do his yardwork or repair things in his house, but mostly they yell at him or ask him questions.</p>
<p>Today is no different, evidently.</p>
<p>“Can we come in, Castiel?” Anna demands.</p>
<p>“Have you fallen down?” Kevin jokes.</p>
<p>Castiel rolls his eyes and lets them inside. “I don’t know what your problem with me is.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have a problem,” Anna says happily as she traipses inside. “We happen to be very impressionable, wide-eyed young people who find ourselves interested in the wisdom of a much older, more experienced person such as yourself.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Castiel mutters, slamming his door. “Why are you really here?”</p>
<p>“Homework help,” Kevin admits. “I needed you to help me write this paper.”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ, I have cases to prepare for!” Castiel exclaims. “I can’t just sit here tutoring you both all day every day.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Kevin says quietly. “That’s fine, we’ll leave. See you another day, Castiel.”</p>
<p>Castiel sighs and rests his head on the coffee table. “Alright, get your ass over here. What’s the paper on?”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Castiel only has one true <em>friend</em>, in the sense of <em>another person in one’s peer group whose company one seeks out voluntarily for entertainment and without an ulterior motive such as requiring a service; a comrade.</em></p>
<p>Castiel’s friend is named Crowley.</p>
<p>Crowley is, by all accounts and all possible definitions of the word, an asshole.</p>
<p>However, as has been established between the two, Crowley is definitively Castiel’s asshole. They’ve even slept together on multiple occasions, although they’ve both made it very clear that they’re not interested in going anywhere else with that.</p>
<p>Castiel, for some bizarre reason that even he could never quite put his finger on, actually <em>enjoys</em> Crowley’s company, and they’ve managed to remain good friends for a number of years despite having fought and been very angry with each other quite a lot of times.</p>
<p>So when Crowley calls Castiel that night, he’s relieved. When Crowley calls Castiel, it never means anything more than ‘let’s go for a drink’ or ‘let’s have a snog’. On one rather (extremely) memorable occasion, it meant ‘let’s go on an impromptu trip to Hawai’i, wear floral print, get sunburned, and drink fruity alcoholic beverages on the beach for several days’. (They returned to quite the disasters in their respective places of work.) Crowley never calls for Reasons. Crowley calls for the exact opposite.</p>
<p>(When Castiel calls Crowley, it always means ‘I need something from you.’ Specifically, weed.</p>
<p>For some reason, Crowley doesn’t seem to have any problems with that. Maybe that’s because Castiel never argues and simply goes along with all of Crowley’s insane schemes.)</p>
<p>So Crowley calls Castiel. And Castiel feels immense relief.</p>
<p>“Hullo, Castiel!” Crowley says in his rough, sandpapery, Scottish drawl. “How are you, darling?”</p>
<p>Castiel laughs quietly. “I’m just fine, Crowley. How have you been?”</p>
<p>“Quite lonely. Can you imagine when all your friends are bloody pricks except for one who never calls, that might be a bi’ of a lonely existence?”</p>
<p>Castiel manages to muster a small amount of shame. “Well, propose something to me then. Make me come out with you and do something insane. What is it this week, busting a crime ring in Reno? Buying illegal substances and distributing them to college students?”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Crowley says softly. “What’s a fun and illegal thing to do? How do you feel about hijacking a classic car for a cross-country road trip?”</p>
<p>“What kind of classic car?” Castiel asks, intrigued.</p>
<p>“There’s someone down the street from me at the moment with a nineteen sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala. It’s black, sleek, positively gorgeous, angel. Want to have a go at it?”</p>
<p>“Maybe later,” Castiel laughs. “For now, I think I’ll just join you for some whiskey.”</p>
<p>“I’m already at our favorite meet-up spot.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be there in five,” Castiel says, and hangs up.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Their favorite meeting spot is a bar on the corner of Nowhere Place and Who Gives a Fuck Avenue. It’s called Honeybee, which Castiel suspects Crowley knows is why he likes it, and they have strippers and hookers there, which Castiel suspects is why Crowley likes it.</p>
<p>Plus they have absolutely exquisite booze.</p>
<p>Castiel finds Crowley at the bar nursing a beer and sits down next to him, grinning.</p>
<p>“Good evening,” Crowley murmurs, taking a sip of his drink. “What’ll it be?”</p>
<p>“Vodka tonic,” Castiel requests of the bartender, turning in his seat to look at Crowley. “What heinous schemes have you been up to since last we spoke?”</p>
<p>Crowley scoffs quietly. “Oh, Castiel, you always think so little of me.”</p>
<p>“Not little,” Castiel rebukes. “<em>Accurate</em>.”</p>
<p>“Touché,” Crowley laughs. “It’s the same as always, angel, selling reefer to anyone who’ll buy and seducing barely-legals, what did you expect? I’m not going to suddenly <em>change my evil ways</em> because you ask.”</p>
<p>The sarcasm and sass are positively <em>dripping </em>from the emphasized words, but Castiel isn’t fazed at all. He simply takes a swig of his drink and replies, “I didn’t ask.”</p>
<p>“That’s true. And I’m glad you haven’t because that would complicate things quite a lot.”</p>
<p>“Indeed it would,” Castiel replies.</p>
<p>They drink and talk for quite a while, but ultimately Crowley passes over Castiel’s companionship for that twenty-two year old in the corner who’s been eyeing him up all night and Castiel goes home alone.</p>
<p>What else isn’t new.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Balthazar calls him up next. It’s three days since he paid Sam that visit to his firm and he needs something to entertain him while he’s rolling in cash and no cases.</p>
<p>“Hello Castiel!” he says eagerly. “How have you been getting along?”</p>
<p>Castiel smiles. Balthazar always manages to make him smile. “I’ve been alright,” he replies. “How’s it going with you?”</p>
<p>“I’m just wonderful,” Balthazar says cheerfully. “But you sound bored.”</p>
<p>“Out of my <em>mind</em>,” Castiel confesses.</p>
<p>“Then come on over to mine and we’ll play a board game, shoot the shit.”</p>
<p>Castiel sighs happily. “That sounds amazing. When?”</p>
<p>“Anytime. I’m free all week.”</p>
<p>“Great. I’ll see you in forty-five minutes.”</p>
<p>Castiel’s relationship with Balthazar has always been better than anyone in his family besides Gabriel. Gabriel was never hard, seeing as how they were closer in age and interests and practically everything. Gabriel had also been kind to him when none of his other family was. By the time Castiel was ten, Michael was solely supporting them with what limited income he could scrape together as a nineteen-year-old high school dropout and Lucifer had gotten himself emancipated and moved out. Gabriel was the only who had been there with him for the vast majority of his childhood.</p>
<p>Balthazar, meanwhile, has always been the ‘hot cousin’ of the family. (With Castiel, obviously, as the gay cousin.) He was never awkward as a child, spewing sass like hot rocks from the tender age of four and his body never becoming gangly or disproportionate. Even now, in his mid-fifties, he’s beautiful in the sort of indescribable way that older people often manage to be, the sort of beauty that is utterly unattainable (and completely unfathomable) to the very young.</p>
<p>And Castiel always idolized him, when they were children together. They are thirteen years apart, so when Castiel was seven, Balthazar was turning twenty, and from practically the moment Castiel knew what a crush was, he had one on Balthazar.</p>
<p>As Castiel gathers his things to meet his cousin at his house, he sighs. He’s so tired, always. He swears it didn’t used to be like this. He hopes it gets better, but he knows that it probably won’t.</p>
<p>He forgets to lock his house.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>“So, tell me of this Samuel Winchester,” Balthazar says playfully as Castiel is setting up Sorry!. Castiel scoffs and knocks over Balthazar’s pieces as retribution.</p>
<p>“You know everything there is to know.”</p>
<p>“No I don’t,” Balthazar says teasingly. “And you know that I don’t. Don’t you couzie?”</p>
<p>“Screw you with a jackhammer,” Castiel replies.</p>
<p>“Oh, saucy today are we?” Balthazar’s light, cheerful tone never falters. “There’s the sassy Castiel I’ve come to know and love. Tell me, darling, what’s the behind-the-scenes? What are you feeling that no one else is privy to? As the kids say, ‘spill the tea’.”</p>
<p>“I hate you so much,” Castiel says with a totally straight face. Apparently knocking over tiny, translucent, colored pieces of plastic wasn’t enough to vent his frustration, so he takes Balthazar’s expression far too literally and knocks his cousin’s mug of tea onto the floor.</p>
<p>“You delightful bastard,” Balthazar exclaims, staring at him in awe. “You positively fabulous prick.”</p>
<p>“You pompous ass,” Castiel grumbles under his breath.</p>
<p>“Clean my carpet, you arsehole, but first, I really do need to hear about this Winchester character now.”</p>
<p>Castiel can feel his resolve wearing away and he sighs. “Fine, for Christ’s sake if it will make you shut the hell up, okay. What do you want to know?”</p>
<p>“Are you <em>falling for him</em>, Cassie dear?”</p>
<p>Castiel scoffs. “I’ve met him twice, Balthazar.”</p>
<p>But of course, that’s not an answer. The number of times he’s interacted with Sam has, in fact, very little impact on how he feels about him. And as it stands… he isn’t quite sure whether he’s falling for Sam. He’d like to believe he knows better than that.</p>
<p>Balthazar must be able to read his thoughts, or else they’re just very in tune with each other, because he replies, “time doesn’t always have an impact on how you feel about someone.”</p>
<p>Castiel groans and tosses his head back over the back of his chair. “Look, Balthazar, if you wanted a love confession or some sort of cheesy, romantic-as-shit speech you should’ve gotten me drunk or high – or, best option, both. I don’t have anything for you.”</p>
<p>Balthazar hums distractedly. “Alright, then, Castiel. But don’t think I won’t be checking in on him.”</p>
<p>“Dear fucking <em>god </em>please do not do that.”</p>
<p>“Too late!” Balthazar cackles. “It’s in my calendar already.”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Castiel gets the call at 8pm on Thursday, six days after he paid his little house call to Sam’s office. Caller ID: Unknown Number. He answers it.</p>
<p>“Castiel Novak?” asks an all-too-familiar voice that really shouldn’t be familiar.</p>
<p>Castiel smiles. “This is he.”</p>
<p>“Hi, it’s Sam Winchester,” replies the voice on the other end.</p>
<p>“Yes, I figured that out,” Castiel replies. “Have you considered my offer?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam says, all breath and no voice. “I’ve… I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I just…” He trails off, and Cas worries for a moment that he won’t resume speaking, but then he says, “I’m sorry, Castiel, but I can’t accept.”</p>
<p>Cas freezes. “I- wait, what? Why not?”</p>
<p>Sam sighs. “Well, I just… I love my little firm. You know? And I don’t wanna become one of those selfish big shot lawyers who looks out for number one and has no morals. Uh, no offense.”</p>
<p>“None taken,” Castiel murmurs absently, barely aware of anything he’s saying. Not that it particularly matters, because Sam is just continuing on.</p>
<p>“I became a lawyer to help people, and by representing these economically disadvantaged young black protesters, I can actually <em>do that</em>. So… no, unless you’re planning to let me keep doing this, to let me keep not charging these people for the work I’m doing for them, I can’t take this position.”</p>
<p>“I understand,” Castiel replies softly. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>His phone falls to the floor and he stares at the wall. He might be in shock. He isn’t sure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He did fucking <em>what</em>?” Lucifer exclaims in hilarious incredulity when his brother explains the situation. He wears a shocked, excited grin on his handsome features. Castiel wants to knock his perfect teeth in.</p><p>“He rejected my offer,” Castiel repeats. “He didn’t want to be a part of this firm unless we could guarantee that he would continue representing protest clients who would continue to not be charged for his services.”</p><p>“He’s a better person than any of us,” Gabriel snorts. “He’s probably a better person than any other lawyer who’s ever lived.”</p><p>“Fuck all of you,” Castiel mutters.</p><p>“You really wanted him to take the job, didn’t you Castiel?” Michael asks, not unkindly. The tone is what catches Castiel’s attention; it’s very rare that Michael is soft or gentle.</p><p>“Yes, I did,” the younger lawyer replies candidly. “I very much believe that he would be an incredible asset to us—”</p><p>“But that isn’t why you wanted him to take the job,” Michael murmurs. “Something about this is personal for you.”</p><p>Castiel sighs and flops into his chair. He is quiet for a long moment, then says, “he reminds me of Ezekiel.”</p><p>The room is silent.</p><p>Finally, Gabriel speaks. “Why’s that?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Castiel laughs. “But there’s something about him that feels like… a second chance.”</p><p>“He would want that for you,” Michael offers. “I know he would.”</p><p>Lucifer is quiet, but even he seems sympathetic. Lucifer, who is often sociopathic, unfeeling, cruel, and outright horrible to everyone. Even he recognizes the significance of what Castiel is saying.</p><p>“What should I do?” Castiel asks, his voice breaking. He internally curses himself out. He hasn’t been vulnerable like this with his brothers in a decade and a half. Why is he doing it now?</p><p>“Talk to him?” Balthazar suggests soberly. “Approach him as a friend. Make contact. Be honest and open and kind and see where it goes.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I can do that,” Castiel says bitterly.</p><p>“Try,” Gabriel tells him.</p><p>Castiel traces the sanded design on the surface of the polished wooden table with the tip of his finger. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll try.”</p><p>~~</p><p>Castiel waits four days to call Sam again. Sam picks up, seeming hesitant.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>Castiel sighs in relief that Sam answered at all. “Hi, Sam. It’s Castiel.”</p><p>“Yeah, Cas, I know. I have caller ID.”</p><p>Castiel cocks his head to one side as he considers what he’s going to say. “Alright, um… would you like to go somewhere together? To hang out, as friends, obviously? Get a drink or something?”</p><p>Sam is quiet for a moment, then says, “well—” On the other end, a rough male voice yells something at him. “Yeah, Dean, I fucking- Jesus Christ, <em>yes,</em> I got you beer when we went shopping. For the love of fuck, I’m on the phone!” There’s a brief rustling on the other end, then Sam clears his throat and says, “yes, I would like that a lot. I’ll try not to fangirl over you too hard.”</p><p>Castiel laughs quietly. “It’s alright, I don’t think I mind so much.”</p><p>“How’s Thursday night?” Sam asks.</p><p>Castiel grins. “Thursday would be perfect.”</p><p>“Then it’s a date,” Sam says in a cheesy tone of voice.</p><p>“It’s a date,” Castiel agrees, and hangs up the phone. He lays back on his couch, and then something occurs to him. His eyes fly open and he grabs his phone, texting Sam.</p><p>
  <strong>Did you call me Cas?</strong>
</p><p>There’s a brief delay, but then Sam replies, <strong>Shit, yeah I did. Is that a problem?</strong></p><p><strong>No</strong>, Cas sends back. <strong>Not a problem at all.</strong> And then, <strong>I actually really like that.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>Sure thing, Cas ;)</strong>
</p><p>Cas.</p><p>Cas smiles as he lays back down. He can get used to that.</p><p>~~</p><p>
  <em>It’s a date.</em>
</p><p>Those words follow Cas everywhere, taunting him. It’s terrifying how easily they get inside his head.</p><p>It’s a date.</p><p>Not a romantic date, but a date nonetheless. And Castiel is going on a date with Sam Winchester. The cute boy who owns his own firm. The brilliant lawyer he’s maybe a little bit pining after.</p><p>They’re going out together. For drinks. As friends. Cas was starting to think he didn’t get to make friends anymore.</p><p>The next several days drag on for so long Cas is starting to fear they’ll never end, and those words trail after him through them. They light his way like a lantern, spreading soft, warm light across the path ahead of him.</p><p>
  <em>It’s a date.</em>
</p><p>It’s a date.</p><p>He shouldn’t be fixating on this like he is. He shouldn’t care so much. He shouldn’t be freaking the hell out over the fact that Sam said three totally innocent words.</p><p>And yet, alas, here is his, doing exactly that.</p><p>Ah, well. Sam will understand. He hopes.</p><p>He stews in his confused misery until Thursday morning, at which point he becomes hyperactive and anxious.</p><p>He spends the first three hours that he’s awake fussing over an outfit, then ends up not even wearing it to work. He can’t stop stimming on the bus ride, his leg bouncing wildly and his hand continuously flying through his hair. He smooths down his shirt several times as he walks into the firm to process paperwork and Lucifer laughs at him for being a nervous wreck.</p><p>“Fuck you,” is all he seems able to see to anybody, and he finds himself writing ‘Cas’ more often than ‘Castiel’ on his papers. He has to force himself to change it.</p><p>He is… quite magnificently boned.</p><p>~~</p><p>Sam calls him at four twenty-two pm to confirm the address and time that they’re meeting. They talk for half an hour after establishing those two pieces of information, not about anything in particular, although they do discover a shared love of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. (And the obviously romantic bond between Steven Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.)</p><p>Eventually, Castiel forces himself to hang up because Michael is giving him the patented Glare™ that means he’ll be in for a jolly good time getting yelled at once everyone else goes home.</p><p>He hopes he doesn’t miss his date.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You are displaying poor work ethic for our interns and younger employees and bandying about the idea that it’s okay to slack off and to do whatever you want during work hours!”</p><p>“And?” Cas says, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, come on, Michael, surely you have something else. You usually yell at me about at least five of my major flaws. You have no qualms about me going out with this man we’re trying to employ? You have nothing to say about my drug habit, perhaps?”</p><p>Michael lifts a disapproving extended index finger into Castiel’s face. “Do not test me, Castiel,” he warns. “You are already, as they say, on thin fucking ice with your brother and I. It would be a shame should you be forced to leave the company on grounds of misconduct.”</p><p>Cas snorts. “You wouldn’t dare,” he claims. “I am still the best lawyer in the state.”</p><p>“After Samuel Winchester, that is,” Michael replies. Cas scoffs and shakes his head.</p><p>“Sure,” he shoots back. “After Sam Winchester. Whom I need to meet in approximately thirty-two minutes. So if you wouldn’t mind voicing the rest of your complaints to my answering machine, I will see you later. <em>Brother</em>.”</p><p>He picks up his trench coat and shrugs it on as he pushes past his brother into the hallway to head down to his car.</p><p>~~</p><p>Michael does, in fact, voice several of his complaints to Castiel’s answering machine.</p><p>He knows because his phone rings multiple times as he’s driving to the bar, and when he steps out of his car, he has four new voicemails from<strong><em> Douchekavitch (Michael)</em></strong>. He snorts and deletes them all.</p><p>He steps inside the bar and finds his new friend waving at him from across the room. He smiles and walks over to him.</p><p>“Hello, Sam,” he says quietly. Sam seems to light up.</p><p>“Hey, Cas,” he replies, grinning.</p><p>“What sinful delights shall we enjoy today?” Cas asks with a light laugh.</p><p>“Don’t mix drugs with alcohol,” Sam advises instantly.</p><p>“I’m a smart man, Sam. I wasn’t planning on it. What would you like to drink? I’m buying.”</p><p>“I can’t let you do that—” Sam says, but Cas holds up a hand.</p><p>“You are not in the best financial position, and I want to.”</p><p>Sam scoffs and shakes his head, sighing. “Alright, fine,” he replies. “You can pay. But I’m gonna have to buy you dinner sometime.”</p><p>“Oh?” Cas raises his eyebrows. “I suppose that’s a fair exchange. Now. What would you like to drink?”</p><p>~~</p><p>They get their drinks and talk for a while, mostly about stupid, frivolous things, but Cas finds that small talk is easy with Sam. It sort of comes naturally, in a way that it never really has before, not even with his own family. It’s quite amazing how he’s managed to become to comfortable with Sam, the way that they just seem to fall into place together.</p><p>“Wait—” Sam scoffs. “You’ve <em>never seen </em>Star Wars?”</p><p>Cas shakes his head. “I was very sheltered as a child, I have almost 20 years of pop culture from my own childhood to catch up on, plus the iconic things that were created before I was born.”</p><p>“That’s it,” Sam decides. “One of these days, you’re comin’ to my house, you’re gonna meet Dean, and the three of us are gonna marathon Star Wars. In the <em>right </em>order.”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve heard there is quite a bit of discourse surrounding this. What is, in fact, the <em>right </em>order?” Cas inquires, taking a sip of his margarita.</p><p>Sam chuckles as he starts to list them off. “Four, Five, Six – sorry, I’ll use names – <em>Hope</em>, <em>Empire</em>, <em>Jedi</em>, <em>TFA, TLJ, </em>I suppose you kind of have to watch <em>Skywalker</em>, even though it’s really not great, then <em>Phantom</em>, <em>Attack</em>, <em>Revenge</em>, and <em>Rogue One</em>.”</p><p>“Rogue One is… immediately before the first movie, yes? The original <em>Star Wars</em>, I mean?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam replies. “It explains how they got the Death Star plans that set the first movie in motion. I’m sorry, I’m kind of a nerd—”</p><p>“Do not apologize,” Cas replies instantly, looking at him in awe. “It’s amazing. All I have to show from my childhood is bibliophilia and a dedication to a religion that, as an openly gay man, I probably should have already abandoned.”</p><p>Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, I left the church when I came out, and that took strength of a sort, but it takes a different kind of strength to be able to say ‘this is who I am, <em>and </em>I care about Christianity – I’m assuming you’re talking about Christianity since you said you’re a bibliophile but I could be wrong – and I want to stay in this community.’ I think that’s beautiful.”</p><p>Cas chuckles, finishing off his drink and setting down his empty glass. “You were correct, I was talking about Christianity. So you are a fellow queer person of faith? Or,” he corrects himself, “I suppose, ex-queer person of faith?”</p><p>Sam nods. “Yeah, I’m pansexual, and I used to believe… so much, and so deeply, that God loved me, that God wanted me to be the best person that I could be, everything I did was motivated by my notion of God. And then when I came out… some people were less than kind to me, we’ll say. Honestly, that’s an understatement. I had a rough time. I—”</p><p>“Take your time, Sam,” Cas says gently. Sam takes a deep breath.</p><p>“When I came out,” he says slowly, “my pastor, Pastor Jim – who had all but adopted me as his son – told me that I would never be forgiven by God, pushed me away when I needed his support, and… sent me to a corrective facility. I was fourteen.”</p><p>Cas isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, but he feels the need to ask. “Which kind?” he whispers.</p><p>“If you’re asking whether I was forced to undergo corrective rape the answer’s yes,” Sam says, his voice low and clipped. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”</p><p>“You can tell me anything,” Cas says, and surprises himself with how true it is. He wants Sam to trust him, on a deeper level than he’s cared about anyone else trusting him in a long time. He rests his hand, palm-up, on the table for Sam to take if he so desires. “I am your friend.”</p><p>Sam looks touched, and does actually take his hand. “Thank you, Castiel,” he murmurs. “That means a lot.”</p><p>“Of course, Sam,” Cas replies, smiling at him.</p><p>He goes home in high spirits, relishing in the feeling of having a new friend, one outside of his family.</p><p>He ignores the small tug in his heart, drawing him toward Sam like a magnet. That can be tabled for later.</p><p>
  
</p><p>~~</p><p>“Castiel?” Balthazar’s voice is cheery as he answers the phone. “What may I do you for, my darling?”</p><p>Cas laughs. “I have a question. When a boy you went out for drinks with – as friends – tells you that he is pansexual, spills one of his darkest secrets to you, offers to teach you about a culturally iconic series of movies, and insists on buying you dinner at some undefined date in the near future… does that mean that he’s interested in you?”</p><p>“Cas-ti<em>-el</em>!” Balthazar exclaims, pausing between each syllable. “Did you go out with Samuel Winchester?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Cas replies, fighting a smile. “Do you have an answer for me?”</p><p>“I would say there is a very good chance that he is, yes. But be careful, Castiel. After what happened last time—”</p><p>“Yeah,” Cas sighs. “I know. I just… I really like him, Balthazar. He’s so kind, and thoughtful, and incredibly intelligent, and I really… <em>really </em>like him. I don’t know what I’m expected to do in this situation.”</p><p>“I just want you to be taken care of. If you think that Sam will take care of you, go for it. I’m not one to stop you. But if you think you’ll be hurt again… I can’t see you like you were after Ezekiel. I’m not sure anyone can go through that twice, and I don’t think any of us would be able to bear it. Watching you retreat back into yourself was the most profound pain I’ve felt in fifty-four years of life.”</p><p>Cas takes a deep breath. “And it’s taken me twenty years to open up again. I trust him, Balthazar. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”</p><p>“Alright, Cassie,” Balthazar replies. “But take care of yourself.”</p><p>“I will,” Cas promises quietly before hanging up the phone.</p><p>He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly through his nose.</p><p>“I need to learn some fucking boundaries,” he mumbles to an empty room.</p><p>~~</p><p>“I am proud of you, Castiel.”</p><p>His father spoke those words to him once in his entire life, looking down at him after Cas renounced his family.</p><p>It was so fucked up, and remains to this day. Castiel stood up in the middle of dinner, <em>exhausted </em>of the constant verbal abuse he was put through and yelled at them all.</p><p>
  <em>Michael!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are an obnoxious, selfish, arrogant prick with no love for anything or anyone. Get your shit together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lucifer!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You walk through the world as if nothing can touch you because you hate the thought of anything touching you. You are racist and misogynistic and transphobic and you disgust me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gabriel…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You never stand up for me. I needed you, when I was young, and you wouldn’t stand up for me. Why won’t you stand up for me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And you, Father.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You hurl words like knives at everyone you can reach. You seek to cut down, to hurt and scar. You want nothing more than to inflict pain. You’re a horror. A blight on this world. I despise you.</em>
</p><p>He had thrown down his napkin and turned toward the door to find his way blocked by his father’s larger, stronger body. His father had looked at him, calm and cold, stoic as a stone statue in that effectual way no one else could <em>dream</em> of affecting, and said, “I am proud of you, Castiel.”</p><p>Cas had scoffed in disgust and shoved past him out of the room, out of the house. He had sprinted through the dark, rainy streets until he found the gate. He had run, and he hadn’t stopped running. Sometimes he feels as though he is still running, despite having repaired relations to a workable standard with his siblings and despite his father’s recent demise.</p><p>Gabriel had caught up with him at eleven fifteen pm, had found him kneeling on the sidewalk outside of a twenty-four hour 7-Eleven, clutching a half-empty Slurpee® he bought with the twelve dollars and forty-three cents he had on him in cash in one hand and crying. Gabriel had sat down next to him, Castiel who was still just a scared, sixteen-year-old boy, and wrapped him in his arms, and whispered, “I am so sorry, little brother.”</p><p>Cas had buried his face in Gabriel’s shirt, wrapped his arms around his brother, and lost his drink. It went splattering across the concrete behind Gabriel, a puddle of blue icy slush seeping through the cracks, but neither of them could bring themselves to care.</p><p>“I am proud of you, Castiel.”</p><p>Gabriel said those words to Cas that same night, but he meant them entirely differently.</p><p>Castiel’s father was proud of him for finally proving that he was, in fact, a man – by his father’s standards, not his own. For releasing his anger in waves, flinging them at everyone around him rather than managing it in a healthy way as he’d been striving to do his entire life up to that point. Castiel’s father was proud of him because he’d finally found some small part of himself in Castiel’s cerulean blue eyes.</p><p>Gabriel was proud of his brother because he was strong. Gabriel was proud of him because he had found it somewhere inside of him to stand up to the three people he’s always been most afraid of and to say ‘I have standards for myself. I will not continue to be treated this way.’</p><p>Gabriel was proud of Castiel because he loved him.</p><p>That would always be a far greater gift than anything anyone else could conjure up.</p><p>Castiel would never forget that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam calls Castiel on a Tuesday morning, sounding cheerful. “Hello, Sam,” Cas says happily as he answers the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“Are you free tomorrow night?” Sam asks without preamble.</p><p>Cas glances at his calendar hanging on the wall. “Why yes, I am,” he replies. “From four on. Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Cool!” Sam exclaims. “I’m taking you to dinner.” He pauses, then clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh… may I take you to dinner?”</p><p>Cas laughs. “Why, Sam Winchester, are you asking me on a date?” he teases. “No, of course I’ll come to dinner with you. I’d be honored, in fact, but like I said you really don’t need to. I have plenty of money—”</p><p>“I want to,” Sam says quickly, cutting him off. “I have <em>some </em>money, you know, I’m not like, homeless and below the poverty line.”</p><p>Cas sighs. “Alright, you can pay for dinner.”</p><p>There’s a shuffle on the other end as if Sam is attempting to hang up, but then Cas hears him – dully – shout “YESSSSS!” After a moment, there’s another shuffling noise and Sam’s voice mumbling “oh shit—” and the call ends.</p><p>Cas falls back into his armchair and laughs for a very long time.</p><p>He is so desperately in love with Sam Winchester. Already. He knows it. He loves it.</p><p>He hasn’t been this happy in many years.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You are royally, utterly, completely fucking <em>boned</em>!” Gabriel declares when Cas informs him of his plans. “Dude, you’re totally whipped. You need to chill the F out, okay?”</p><p>“I’m chill!!” Cas replies defensively. “My F is super chill, Gabe! Who’s the one who’s pacing around my living room right now? Is it me? Nope.”</p><p>Gabe rolls his eyes. “Castiel,” he warns. Cas puts up his hands.</p><p>“I’m just saying.”</p><p>“Well, stop saying. My <em>point</em> is… what the fuck. That’s my point.”</p><p>Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What exactly are we what-the-fucking? I’m pretty sure this has nothing to do with drugs, you haven’t seen me with a blunt or a bottle of painkillers in a few days. From context I can assume this is something about Sam but I really don’t know what you’re talking about so please do narrow it down for me.”</p><p>Gabriel scoffs. “Cas,” he replies in the tone of voice he uses that means <em>you’re on thin ice and I’m about to lose my shit all over your fancy carpet.</em> “You’re in love with him.”</p><p>Cas laughs. “That I am. What a brilliant observation!”</p><p>“Shove it up your ass,” Gabe tells him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”</p><p>That makes Cas freeze. “Excuse me?” he demands. “Did you just ask me if I’m <em>ready</em> for this? I’m sure that’s not what you just said because of all the people in the world <em>Gabriel Novak </em>is smarter than that. Isn’t he?”</p><p>“I could live without the sarcasm,” Gabriel deadpans.</p><p>Cas takes a shaky breath. “For the love of fuck,” he murmurs. “Why is everyone so concerned about me falling in love again? You’d think you’d all be excited for me, but no, everyone thinks I’m some broken, fragile thing—”</p><p>“We want you to be <em>safe</em>, Castiel, we want you to be healthy and happy and not in pain—”</p><p>“It’s been twenty years since he died!” Cas screams in disbelief. “I celebrated the twenty-year anniversary of his death three weeks ago! I still go there and kneel at his grave and lay flowers on it and whisper my guilty confessions every year twice a year. But I don’t live with the constant grinding bone-shattering skin-cutting pain of a shattered heart anymore. I don’t carry around the burden of my role in his death anymore. I’m okay, Gabriel, I’m better than I’ve been in a long time. I don’t understand why you don’t seem to trust me.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs sadly. “I love you, Castiel. I do trust you. I just want you to be sure you can trust yourself.”</p><p>“I can,” Cas whispers. “And I do. I’ll be okay, Gabriel, I swear it.”</p><p>Gabriel relaxes and pulls his brother into his arms. “Good,” he mumbles. “You’re my favorite brother, and I need you, and I love you. That’s good.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>~~</p><p>“How does one dress up to go to dinner with a man one is very much in love with but is also decidedly not dating?” Castiel mutters, staring at his reflection in the full-body mirror and tugging unhappily at his collar.</p><p>Charlie laughs. “Is it a date or is it not a date, boo? It can’t be both.”</p><p>“Can’t it, though?” Gabriel asks dryly, looking at Cas in amusement but not making a single move to help.</p><p>Balthazar scoffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing a suit jacket. “Here, wear this instead of the trenchcoat.”</p><p>Castiel rolls his eyes but shrugs off his other coat and takes the formal wear, pulling it on. It emphasizes his shoulders better. “Thank you,” he says softly to his cousin. Balthazar smiles back.</p><p>“You deserve a good day,” Balthazar murmurs. “You deserve to have fun with someone. You deserve a relative who won’t make you hate yourself constantly.”</p><p>Cas sighs, adjusting his jacket, his eyes not leaving the mirror. “Do I deserve it, though?” he asks, his voice like falling snow in the near-silent room. He turns to look at his cousin. “You are good to me,” he breathes, smiling at him. He pulls him into a hug. “I love you.”</p><p>Balthazar chuckles. “Alright, keep the gay in your jacket. I love you too.”</p><p>Cas rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he mutters, but he’s grinning.</p><p>“Now go get him, tiger!” Charlie cheers. Cas shakes his head.</p><p>“Contrary to popular belief, I am not going on a date. Therefore, I have no need to ‘go get’ anything, or anyone. But thank you for your enthusiasm, Charlie.”</p><p>Gabriel wolf-whistles unhelpfully.</p><p>“Perhaps I should just leave,” Castiel suggests. “Considering that you all would prefer to make fun of me, it seems as though perhaps my place is elsewhere.”</p><p>“Aw, no, don’t leave us, we love you!” Charlie coos. “Come on, we’ll at least do your hair before you go.”</p><p>“You’re starting to make me feel like this is a date and or I’m going to show up overdressed,” Castiel remarks as she and Gabriel drag him to the bathroom. They refuse to acknowledge his pleas, simply attacking his hair with a wet brush. “Gabriel,” he cries plaintively. “Why must you involve yourself in this?”</p><p>“You need someone to take care of you every once in a while, Castiel,” Gabriel replies. “Come on now, quit struggling and let us mess with your hair.”</p><p>“Fucking—” Cas sighs but relaxes in his chair and soon the pain eases, replaced with the pleasant feeling of a brush sliding through untangled and unencumbered hair. Charlie puts something wet and vaguely sticky into it and messes it around, then shows him in the mirror.</p><p>“I look like I have just been thoroughly fucked within an inch of my life,” Cas observes.</p><p>“I know!” she says excitedly. “Isn’t it great?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “You gelled it?”</p><p>She’s grinning when he looks at her. “I gelled it,” she confirms. He takes a deep breath.</p><p>“Very well, I’ll muddle through. I am leaving now.” He stands up and they all wave at him happily as he climbs into his car to make his way to the restaurant where Sam wanted to meet him.</p><p>He is so incredibly, epically, massively boned, and no one will be able to convince him otherwise.</p><p>~~</p><p>Castiel sits down at his table across from Sam Winchester and Sam stares at him. Cas flushes slightly and looks down at his menu, afraid to make eye contact.</p><p>“You look great,” Sam blurts out awkwardly. “Or — well — I mean… you look nice.”</p><p>Cas smiles up at him. “Thank you, Sam,” he whispers. “You look quite handsome yourself.”</p><p>It’s true; Sam’s wearing a dark red flannel open over a white tank top. His hair is neatly pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his eyes dance in the light from the candles around them. He doesn’t look quite as formal as Castiel does, but he looks incredibly attractive all the same.</p><p>“How have you been?” Cas asks politely as he looks over the menu. Sam shrugs.</p><p>“Alright. I got a few new protest cases, so I’m working through those. Luckily the court dates are spread out so hopefully I won’t be too fucked up over it all. I’m really glad I’m getting to do the work I’ve been wanting to do for so long. I really feel like I’m changing the world, you know?”</p><p>Cas smiles at him with a fond, happy sparkle in his eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”</p><p>Sam relaxes a little. “I’m glad. I’d feel kinda awkward if you didn’t understand at all, I… have some social anxiety issues, so—”</p><p>“Sam,” Cas cuts him off amusedly. “I understand. So do I. There’s no need to worry.”</p><p>Sam nods, flushing a little, and looks down. “I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.”</p><p>“Why are you nervous?” Castiel asks kindly. “It’s just me. We’re friends, Sam.”</p><p>“Cause this feels sort of like a dinner date,” Sam admits, laughing.</p><p>Cas laughs as well. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who got that impression. Is it one?”</p><p>“No,” Sam says quickly. “No, but since we’re on the same page, that kind of helps ease the tension, right?”</p><p>Cas forces a smile. “Yeah. Not a date. Just two friends who happened to go to dinner together. It was your idea, remember?” he teases, nudging his new friend.</p><p>Sam nods. “Yeah, it’s all my fault.” He looks as though he can’t stop smiling.</p><p>His smile is beautiful, Cas thinks. It’s very honest and vulnerable, like Cas is seeing a sacred, wholesome part of his friend that few other people get to see. He looks timid when he smiles, almost like he’s not used to it, as though he smiles so rarely he’s not even sure he’s doing it right.</p><p>It’s wide, though, revealing small dimples and wrinkling the corners of his eyes, which light up with the motion. It momentarily knocks all the wind out of Castiel’s lungs.</p><p>His thoughts are interrupted by the waiter coming over, asking for their drink orders.</p><p>They order water and a bottle of wine, then turn back to their conversation. “So, besides work, what else have you been doing since last we spoke?” Cas asks his friend easily, grinning at him.</p><p>Sam shrugs. “I’ve been doing assorted jobs for other people, trying to make a little extra money on the side. My brother and I are really struggling financially right now, we need a little something else to pay the rent, you know?”</p><p>Cas sighs. He knows the feeling all too well. He was in that position himself around when he was Sam’s age. He’s empathetic to the experience. “I do know,” he replies. “Do you have any time for yourself, to do things you enjoy?”</p><p>Sam chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully; Cas wonders if he knows he’s doing it. “Well, I have a little. I get the evenings to myself. I usually spend that time with Dean. Plus, once I get in bed, I have a little time to read.”</p><p>“Oh?” Cas asks, instantly intrigued. “What do you like to read?”</p><p>“Right now I’m working my way through <em>A Song of Ice and Fire</em>. I like a lot of fantasy, so there’s that,<em> Lord of the Rings</em>, <em>Harry Potter</em>, have you heard of <em>The Belgariad</em>?”</p><p>Cas furrows his brow. “It sounds vaguely familiar.”</p><p>Sam splits into his timid smile again at the notion that he gets to explain it to Cas now. “It’s a David Eddings series about a kid named Garion who goes on this whole adventure and… well, I won’t spoil it for you should you chose to read it but it’s really brilliant, and he gets to do a lot of really awesome stuff. There’s a partner series called <em>The Mallorean</em> that takes place later with the same characters and it’s all — yeah, I won’t spoil it, but from what I know about you, I think you’d enjoy it.”</p><p>Cas grins. “That sounds good. I’ll have to look into that.” He pauses for a moment. “Tell me about your brother. It seems as though you care about him a great deal.”</p><p>Sam nods. “Yeah, he was all I had growing up. We pretty much lived out of a suitcase, slept in the backseat of our dad’s car, which is Dean’s now, more nights than we didn’t. Our dad wasn’t really around, so I grew up relying on him, and now… well, now he’s the most important person in my life.”</p><p>Cas smiles softly at him. “So no boyfriend? No girlfriend? No datemate? No fiancée, no wife or husband or spouse or partner of any kind? Just you and Dean?”</p><p>Sam nods. “That’s it. Just me and my big brother.”</p><p>Cas leans back. “Well, what is he like?”</p><p>Sam shrugs. “He’s… indescribable, really. He’s my idol, you know? My inspiration. When we were kids he was so focused on taking care of me he ended up dropping out of high school, got a GED. But he kept providing for me so that I could finish high school and then go to undergrad at Stanford and ultimately get my SJD from Stanford Law. He’s big into cars and mechanics and technology. I keep telling him he should go back to school and get a STEM degree. He’d be great at it. He always says the same thing, though, says ‘Sammy, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, we ain’t got the money.’” For this he affects what Cas assumes is his brother’s voice, deeper and rougher and vaguely Southern, and as he talks he waves his fork around emphatically. It’s adorable how passionate he is. “You know, I tell him there’s scholarships and loans but I think really he just doesn’t think he can hack it in college. I had so much anxiety over actually doing college classes but let me tell you, it was so worth it. And Dean could do it too, I know he could. Just wish he’d believe in himself as much as I believe in him.”</p><p>“You sound very proud of him,” Cas remarks. Sam flushes.</p><p>“I kinda went off the rails on a tangent, there, didn’t I?”</p><p>“You did,” Cas admits. “But it was really cute.”</p><p>Sam looks touched. “Oh, you think I’m cute?”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “Maybe a little. Like a puppy. A giant, German Shepherd Golden Retriever puppy.”</p><p>Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Alright. You said you have brothers, right? Why don’t you tell me about your brothers?”</p><p>Cas laughs bitterly. “There’s not much to tell. Every last one of them is a massive prick with the exception of Gabriel, who’s only sort of a prick.”</p><p>“Oh?” Sam inquires, sounding playfully intrigued. “Tell me more.”</p><p>Cas snorts. “Alright, if you insist. My eldest brother Michael likes to think he’s in control, so when he started the firm he forced us all to allow him to be the CEO. He made us sign paperwork. He’s a goddamn control freak and he wants us all to live in fear of him. There is no fear in my heart, only anger.” He fights the urge to spit somewhere to emphasize his disgust for a man who isn’t even in the building. “He also loves to criticize me and point out all the many, many things I’m doing wrong.</p><p>“My second oldest brother, his given name is Heylel. But once my brother Gabriel told him he was the manifestation of pure evil, like Lucifer himself, and the next day he requested we all call him Lucifer. He’s never retracted that request, so that’s what we do. He likes to believe he has us in a chokehold. He is more like his older brother than he would like to admit.” Cas scoffs. “He and Michael hate each other, and yet are closer to each other than any of the rest of us have ever been to either of them.</p><p>“And then there’s Gabriel. Gabriel, unlike most of them, actually loves me. Gabriel has supported me my entire life when no one else would dream of doing so. Gabriel took care of me as a child. Gabriel is the only sibling I have who I truly consider family.”</p><p>“Family don’t end in blood,” Sam says softly, in a distant voice like he’s quoting someone else. “I understand the sentiment.”</p><p>Cas smiles. “I’m glad you know what I mean. It would make Charlie and Balthazar harder to explain.”</p><p>“Oh?” Sam says. “Spill.”</p><p>“Balthazar is a cousin of mine, a close family friend. He is also among the chief staff members of the firm involved in important decisions. I love him more than either Michael or Lucifer, and find his company far more pleasant. He’s kind, in his abrasive, condescending, British sort of way, and he cares far more than he lets on.” Cas feels a smile drift onto his face as he talks about his cousin. “Charlie is not related to me by any stretch of the imagination. She is a tech whiz computer genius web design expert – and a hacker on the side – who lives next door to me. I met her entirely by accident in the process of moving in and we became friends. There’s no worrying about romance, either, considering that I’m a gay man and she is a lesbian.”</p><p>“Gay lesbian solidarity,” Sam supplies, nodding thoughtfully. “I can respect that.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Cas says. “Nothing more than that. We are simply very close friends. She even stood in my bedroom and made fun of me while I was trying to choose my outfit for this very meeting.”</p><p>“You know what? Those are the best kinds of friends.”</p><p>“Yes, exactly. If they’re comfortable enough to tease you, you can be sure they’ll stick around.”</p><p>The waiter returns, interrupting them. “What can I get you gentlemen to eat this evening?”</p><p>Cas smiles as he orders, feeling comfortable in this atmosphere with his new friend. He has a feeling this date is going to go very well.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It becomes pretty regular for them; they’ll meet up once or twice a week and hang out together. They go for coffee, smoothies, ice cream. They play card games or talk about old cases. It feels natural and right and makes Cas feel more comfortable than he’s felt in a long, long time.</p><p>They go jogging together one day, down Sam’s favorite trail, by a beautiful scenic river. It’s so clear Cas can see the individual rocks in the riverbed. He feels as though he could reach out and pick them up. He watches the fish wriggle down the stream beside him, the sunlight rippling off their backs, and thinks how beautiful they are.</p><p>But they’re nothing compared to Sam. Sam, barely awake, in the early-morning chill and mist. He’s wearing sweat pants and a light gray hoodie and he has his ear buds in and he’s sweating bullets. His eyes are alight with joy, like this is his favorite thing to do, and as Castiel jogs along beside him (he’s proud to say he’s kept himself in very good shape, even as he gets along in years) he can’t help but realize once again that he really is in love with this man.</p><p>If he cared a little more, he’d think it’s a stupid way to be reminded of how deeply you feel for someone. But he’s long past giving a fuck about things like that. He’s happy to just know that he feels the things he feels.</p><p>When they jog back to the car, Cas leans against the door and smiles at his friend. “I’ll be jogging here again,” he murmurs conversationally. “This place is peaceful. And gorgeous.”</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Sam asks happily. “It’s my absolute favorite place to jog. Dean thinks I’m crazy for waking up early to work out at all. He’s told me on several occasions that cardio is where happiness goes to die.”</p><p>“I take it Dean is not a fan of exercise?”</p><p>“Not really,” Sam chuckles. “It’s a wonder he manages to keep somewhat in shape.”</p><p>“He should meet Gabriel,” Cas remarks as they get into the car. “It surely seems as though they’d get along swell.”</p><p>~~</p><p>“Would you like to come over to my place and watch a movie with me on Saturday?”</p><p>Cas’s heart beats faster. “Definitely,” he replies. “Yeah, um. Yes. Definitely.”</p><p>He can practically hear Sam’s smile. “Alright. Cool. Good. Noon?”</p><p>“Noon it is,” he chokes out, a mangled imitation of language words.</p><p>“I’ll see you at noon.”</p><p>Sam hangs up.</p><p>Cas needs a smoke.</p><p>~~</p><p>He has to talk himself down before he can knock on Sam’s door. He’s never had anxiety on this level before, not when it came to interpersonal relationships. Professionally, of course he has. But with people? He’s always been good with people.</p><p>So why does he have such incredible issues with Sam Winchester?</p><p>He spends almost ten minutes standing on Sam’s front step before he works up the courage to knock. Sam answers immediately, and then they’re just standing there, face-to-face, staring at each other. “Hi,” Cas says, swallowing. Sam smiles.</p><p>“Hi,” he replies. “You wanna come in the house?”</p><p>“Yeah, yes, definitely,” Cas says, laughing a little. Sam steps out of the way and he walks inside.</p><p>It’s not huge; just a little two bed one bath with a small kitchen and a slightly larger living room. There’s a TV hooked up on one wall with several other devices attached to it. He picks out a PlayStation 4, a Nintendo Switch, and an Amazon Fire Stick among them. He takes it all in, then turns and smiles at Sam.</p><p>And then someone else steps into the living room from the kitchen, watching Cas unamusedly. “So this is the lawyer friend?” they ask. They have a strong jawline, jagged green eyes like raw gemstones – uncut, unpolished, pure and fresh from the mine – and sandy blond-brown hair in a carefully kept undercut. They raise an eyebrow. Sam sighs heavily.</p><p>“Cas, this is my big brother Dean. Dean, Castiel Novak. ‘The lawyer friend’.”</p><p>Cas snorts softly. “You didn’t tell me that your brother was gorgeous, Sam, or I would have made my way over here much quicker.”</p><p>Dean remains stoic for a moment, then breaks into a grin, sets down the dish rag and the bowl he was drying out, and holds out a hand toward Cas. “I like you already,” he says happily. “Nice to meetcha.”</p><p>“And you as well,” Cas replies, shaking it firmly. “Sam has told me quite a lot about you.”</p><p>“Yeah, he never shuts up about you,” Dean says dryly. “Even before he met you, he still talked about you constantly.” He claps his hands together. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. You two have fun on your totally-not-gay unromantic bro date, and I’ll be back in like four hours, kay Sammy?”</p><p>“Don’t go getting drunk on me,” Sam tells him. “I am not driving out to a bar to pick you up because your blood alcohol level greatly exceeds point oh-eight percent.”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Dean replies. “I’m just going over to Benny’s. I’ll have like one beer. See ya later.”</p><p>Sam nods, laughing, and Dean shrugs on a leather jacket and disappears out the door, saluting them as he goes.</p><p>“Well…” Sam says, staring at the door with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Now you’ve met Dean. Which I’m sorry for.”</p><p>Cas heads into the kitchen to make popcorn. “Do not be sorry,” he replies. “Really, seriously, genuinely. It’s not a problem. I quite like your brother, in fact. He and I should hang out sometime, become friends.”</p><p>“Well, don’t go leavin’ me for him,” Sam teases. Cas gives him a solemn look.</p><p>“Never,” he promises in a deep, gravelly voice. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”</p><p>They hold each other’s gaze for a moment before both bursting into laughter, Cas bracing himself on the counter and trying not to fall over as Sam leans against the wall. This will be a very enjoyable night.</p><p>They finally manage to make themselves popcorn and land on the couch, the bowl between them, and Sam puts a DVD into the Blu-Ray player. “What are we watching?” Cas asks, just as the opening credits of Pulp Fiction appear on the screen. “Oh.”</p><p>Sam shrugs. “Like this movie. Sam Jackson is iconic.”</p><p>Castiel smiles. “I’m not arguing,” he replies, leaning back.</p><p>They make it about fifteen minutes like that.</p><p>Eventually, the popcorn disappears and Sam awkwardly leans against Cas, obviously in an attempt to be friendly, but it comes across as far too intimate. Cas bites his bottom lip, then presses back against him, and they end up on the couch, Cas’s head resting on Sam’s shoulder, Sam’s arms around his torso. Just as Uma Thurman is getting herself killed, Cas abruptly says, “what are your thoughts on marriage?”</p><p>Sam looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yep,” Cas replies. “I just wanna know what you think about marriage.”</p><p>Sam sighs. “Uh… well, I’ve always wanted to get married. Have a family. Live with someone I love dearly. Marriage is a wonderful institution. But… it would have to be someone I trust a lot. I can’t watch my own marriage torn apart by lies the way my parents’ marriage was.”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “I don’t think I could do it.”</p><p>“Get married?” Sam asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Cas replies. “I don’t think I could do it again.”</p><p>Sam freezes up. “<em>Again</em>?”</p><p>“Oh.” Cas feels kind of guilty for bringing this up now. But… he trusts Sam. He wants to tell him. He’s going to tell him.</p><p>“Twenty years and a few months ago – and several weeks and a couple of days – I was married to a man named Ezekiel. For a good eighteen hours.” He laughs bitterly.</p><p>“The day after we were married, he was at the grocery store and he got mugged. He managed to escape with his life and his wallet, and then his mugger pushed him into the road and he was hit by a large truck. He was killed on impact.” Cas stares at the coffee table. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved Ezekiel.”</p><p>Sam looks at him with pity in his eyes. “You’ve been hurt so much,” he whimpers. “I want to take away your pain.”</p><p>Cas glances back at him, then lunges forward and kisses him right on the mouth.</p><p>~~</p><p>He opens his eyes in a gray, clean, meticulously decorated bedroom with a thin amount of light filtering through the window. He glances over to the side. There’s Sam, eyes closed in peaceful slumber, hair mussed and spread out across the pillow. Cas reaches up and brushes his hand across Sam’s cheek. He stirs.</p><p>“Hey,” Sam murmurs, his voice hoarse and soft, but gentle and oh, so beautiful. It brings a smile to Cas’s lips.</p><p>“Good morning,” Cas whispers, leaning forward to kiss him again. Sam smiles and leans into it.</p><p>“You sleep well?” Sam asks.</p><p>“Incredibly,” Cas replies. He rests his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You are so much more peaceful than any of my friends. I am comfortable with you. You remind me… so much of him.”</p><p>“Do you want to tell me about him?” Sam offers. Cas shakes his head.</p><p>“Perhaps one day,” he murmurs. “But not now. I would like to enjoy this time here with you now.”</p><p>Sam smiles. “Alright,” he replies. He brushes his hand through Cas’s hair, slow and gentle and intimate. Cas closes his eyes in bliss and leans into the contact.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I had a dream,” he whispers, “that you loved me. You were… so beautiful, and so honest, and you looked at me and said that you loved me more than you’d ever loved another person, and…” Cas trails off, laughing. “I think I might have cried,” he confesses. Sam smiles.</p><p>“That’s sweet, Cas,” he murmurs. “It’s nice to know you’re sensitive like that.”</p><p>Cas shakes his head, scoffing. “That’s not what I mean and you know it, don’t be a jerk.” He pushes himself up onto his elbows. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be out in about twenty minutes.”</p><p>Sam smiles at him happily. “Alrighty, Cas. I’ll see you then.” He winks, and Cas laughs.</p><p>He climbs out of the bed and he can practically feel Sam’s eyes on his bare form, watching him, taking in the sight of him in a non-sexual context. He has a feeling that Sam enjoys just looking.</p><p>As he washes up, he thinks about his nickname, <em>Cas</em>. He thinks about how Sam gave it to him, how honest and right it felt. He thinks about how easily it’s become a part of his identity, because it’s sacred, because <em>Sam calls him that. </em>He thinks about how quickly he started to think of himself as Cas rather than as Castiel. He likes it more. He’s happy with it.</p><p>He thinks about Sam; about how Sam treats him, about how Sam looks at him. He thinks about how Sam kissed him last night, teeth and tongue, with abandon. No holding back. He thinks about how he kissed Sam, deep and passionate. He thinks about the way Sam loved, the way he exposed himself completely to him, not only physically but emotionally. He thinks about his face, how his eyes fluttered closed, how his features scrunched up, how he lost himself in the pleasure. He thinks about the moment they fell apart together, how he kissed Sam’s jaw and stroked Sam’s hair.</p><p>He thinks about the connotations for their relationship, and wonders how they plan to proceed. He decides to ask Sam what his thoughts are. He comes out of the shower feeling relaxed and contented.</p><p>He retrieves his clothes from Sam’s bedroom floor where they were thrown in a haste; he wears yesterday’s clothes because he hadn’t brought any others. He didn’t know he would be staying over. He dresses and makes his way out to the living room.</p><p>“Hey, Sam,” he calls into the kitchen where he can hear Sam making breakfast. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a blunt, lighting it up and turning back.</p><p>Sam’s standing in the entryway from the kitchen to the living room. He looks… hurt?</p><p>“So it was all a ploy?” he asks. “Was anything you told me real?”</p><p>Cas stares at him. “Of course it was, Sam.”</p><p>Sam scoffs and drops something onto the couch before disappearing back into the kitchen. Cas glances at it. His phone.</p><p>He picks it up. As he does, the screen lights up, revealing a text notification.</p><p><strong>Balthazar (06:32)<br/></strong>Have you convinced Sammy-boy to join the firm yet?</p><p>His heart sinks. “Sam, I can—”</p><p>“Don’t bother,” Sam replies. “I just want to know if you care about me at all.”</p><p>Cas swallows. “Yes, Sam, I swear,” he breathes. “I care so much about you.”</p><p>“Then why would you take advantage of me like that?”</p><p>Cas doesn’t have words to say. He wants to fix this, to explain, but if Sam won’t allow him to, he can’t force it. He just shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Sam, I never meant for this.”</p><p>He takes another long drag of his blunt. Sam appears again just as he’s doing so and smacks it out of his hand. Cas looks at him in surprise. “That was my drugs,” he says stupidly.</p><p>Sam looks at him in disappointment, anger boiling in his eyes. “Get clean, Castiel,” he replies.</p><p>He walks away, and Cas stands there staring at his back for several more minutes until he works up the courage to actually leave.</p><p>He drives home in tense, tight, agitated silence, the air charged with his fury.</p><p>He doesn’t cry until he’s safe in his room.</p><p>~~</p><p>26 missed calls.</p><p>14 voicemails.</p><p>138 text messages from various siblings, cousins, coworkers, and friends.</p><p>This is what Castiel wakes up to on the morning of Thursday the twenty-third of July. He won’t fucking have it. He mutes his text notifications, deletes his unopened voicemails. He opens his laptop and finds 600 plus emails from people he hasn’t spoken to in years. He sighs heavily. This is going to be a long day.</p><p>He shakes his head and closes the laptop again, going downstairs to make himself coffee. His phone buzzes next to the coffee machine; incoming call from Balthazar Novak. He sighs and presses the power button, silencing and declining the call. He takes his coffee into the living room and lays down on the couch.</p><p>He has no energy to do anything anymore. He relegated all his cases to other people, stopped taking on new ones, and hasn’t gone into work for several days. He’s always exhausted, he never wants to talk to people, and he doesn’t feel like making himself eat. He sleeps fourteen hours a day and sits mindlessly in front of the television for the other ten.</p><p>It’s been five days since Sam cut him off. He recognizes this behavior in himself. This is depression, a deep, abiding depression, and it’s the sort of depression that at least for Castiel is only triggered by incredibly traumatic or life-changing events.</p><p>He knows because the last time he acted this way was when Ezekiel died.</p><p>He takes a drink of his coffee and ponders his options. He can watch Marvel movies or binge Stranger Things. Not that either one makes a difference; he’ll still be depressed and he’ll be barely paying any attention. Marvel movies it is; at least he knows those well enough not to miss anything.</p><p>He jumps and almost slops hot coffee on himself when someone bangs loudly on the door. “Castiel!” Gabriel’s voice screams. “Let me inside! I need to talk to you.”</p><p>“Castiel isn’t home, Gabriel!” Cas yells back. “Go find someone else to harass!”</p><p>“I happen to need my brother right now,” Gabriel shouts. “Let me inside the stupid house or I’ll come back here with a battering ram and tear your fucking door down, along with half the wall, and you’ll lose your deposit. Let me in.”</p><p>Castiel rolls his eyes and sighs, but stands up and opens the door for Gabriel. “Wow, you look like shit,” is Gabriel’s first reaction. Cas glances down. He’s wearing baggy, ratty pajama pants, a stained and frayed and faded white sleep shirt, and his hair is messy and matted. Not in a sexy way. Cas shrugs.</p><p>“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he replies. “Don’t really need to look good.”</p><p>Gabriel takes a deep, exasperated breath. “What you need is to have decent mental health. Are you planning on telling anyone what the fuck happened to you?”</p><p>“Sam cut me out of his life entirely,” Castiel says without hesitation and in a very matter-of-fact tone. “And before you say anything, yes, you told me so. But it was my fault anyway, Gabriel. I’m the one who fucked it up. Please don’t rub my nose in my failures.”</p><p>Gabriel pulls him over to the couch and hugs him tightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cassie. Never in a million years.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gabriel stays with him for a few days and forces him to do things, to get back on his feet. He takes it a little bit at a time. The first day he manages to get out of bed and dress himself. The second day he eats without Gabriel’s assistance, although it is entirely dry cereal. The third day he even bathes and does a load of laundry, and by day five he’s basically a functioning human again.</p><p>He looks at Gabriel and he feels so much guilt. His poor brother has dragged his way through the trenches this whole time with him, burdened down by Castiel’s pain. He doesn’t deserve all of this, but he sits with his brother in the dark with no complaint, knowing that he’s the driving force keeping Cas on the face of the planet.</p><p>Castiel doesn’t deserve him.</p><p>But then, Castiel doesn’t deserve anyone in his life. They choose to grace him with their presence anyway.</p><p>On the morning of the sixth day, Gabriel makes them both breakfast and they eat together. “I’m gonna head home today,” Gabriel says casually. Castiel takes a closer look at him and notices the bags under his eyes. It occurs to him that his brother hasn’t slept in almost a week, and he feels a fresh stab of shame in his chest.</p><p>“Good idea,” Cas replies, pushing around his eggs with his fork. “I’ll be able to handle myself.” He tosses his brother a weak smile. “It’ll be okay.”</p><p>Gabriel cocks his head to one side. “You sure?” he confirms. “Don’t wanna leave you here if you need me.”</p><p>Castiel nods. “Yeah. I have cases to get back to. Work can only stay on hold for so long. The world still turns, right?” He forces a smile, but it seems to cost a thousand times too much energy to retain and it fades quickly. “Anyway, it’ll be good to be alone,” he promises. “I can’t get too used to having you around all the time.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs heavily. “Alright,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair back and wipes his chin with his napkin before reaching for his coat. “Well, I’ll see you at the firm, hopefully on Wednesday? Yes?”</p><p>Cas nods again. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.” As Gabriel makes his way toward the door, however, Castiel catches his wrist. “Wait,” he croaks. Gabriel turns.</p><p>“Yeah, Castiel?” he asks. There’s no hint of exasperation in his voice, only genuine concern, which serves only to make Castiel feel worse.</p><p>He struggles for a second, then forces out the words, “I need a hug.”</p><p>Gabriel laughs, pulling him close. “That’s all you have to say,” he promises. “I have all the hugs for you.”</p><p>Cas glances at the floor. ‘I have all the hugs for you’ was something Gabe always used to tell him when he was young, when he had night terrors or scraped his knee. He would instinctively run to his big brother for a hug, and Gabe would reassure him that there was never any shortage. Gabriel’s hugs were infinite and endless, and just as healing.</p><p>But there are things even Gabriel’s strong arms can’t fix.</p><p>“Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel whispers. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”</p><p>Gabriel nods at the clear dismissal, then turns and locks the door behind himself. Castiel slumps down back in his seat at the dining room table. There’s something about the absence of another person’s presence in his house that feels almost oppressive.</p><p>It must be time to clean.</p><p>~~</p><p>Castiel spends the next fourteen hours cleaning the entire house, rearranging all the furniture, scrubbing every toilet, counter, sink, and shower until they shine. He falls into bed, grimy and fully clothed, at midnight and is asleep in minutes.</p><p>The next day he wakes up at 9. He falls out of bed, manages to change out of his clothes, and drinks a latte for breakfast on his drive to the firm.</p><p>At least he’s alive and functioning again.</p><p>He’s distracted and confused throughout the day, off his game. He’s lucky he doesn’t have to go into court today. He has four panic attacks throughout the day for absolutely no reason. By the time he returns home he’s exhausted, miserable, and wants nothing more than to cry on his couch into a mug of tea.</p><p>Crowley calls him.</p><p>He feels none of the overwhelming relief that often accompanies receiving a phone call from Crowley. He doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.</p><p>“Hello Crowley,” he says numbly as he answers.</p><p>“Come on over to mine, angel,” Crowley suggests without preamble. “Let’s have whiskey and make fun of porn stars.”</p><p>Castiel swallows the lump in his throat. “I’ll be right over.”</p><p>~~</p><p>“Hullo, Castiel,” Crowley says cheerfully as he opens the door. “How have you been doing?”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “I’m fine,” he manages. Crowley’s face falls into a concerned expression.</p><p>“That’s worse that abysmal, what do you need?”</p><p>Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m alright.”</p><p>Crowley shakes his head in response and leads Castiel to the sofa, sitting him down and pouring him some whiskey. “Drink up,” he says cheerfully. “It’s the best kind, the really expensive stuff. Brought over a case of it from Scotland.”</p><p>Castiel sighs and swallows the whole glass at once. “Oh lord,” he replies after he’s done, grimacing in response to the burn in his throat.</p><p>“Yeah, mate, that’s for sipping, not for drinking like a shot,” Crowley offers helpfully.</p><p>“Whatever,” Castiel replies. He knew that, he’s drank with Crowley before, but he didn’t care this time. “Pour me another glass.”</p><p>Crowley doesn’t argue, thankfully, and just pours the drink with a sympathetic expression. He follows it up by pouring one for himself and settling in across from his friend, nursing his glass with his eyes trained on Castiel’s face.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me?” he asks in a condescending but caring tone. “Or am I going to have to pull it out of you with a length of fishing line?”</p><p>Castiel takes a deep breath. “I’m just trying to stay afloat, Crowley. I’ll be alright.”</p><p>Crowley leans forward. “Do you need anything from me?”</p><p>Castiel takes another sip of his drink. “Fuck me,” he says bluntly. Crowley raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“You—”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel says impatiently. “Put down the tumbler, get over here, and take off my goddamn clothes.”</p><p>Crowley leans forward and kisses him deeply, his hands going to Castiel’s coat to strip him down.</p><p>This is nothing like it was with Sam. Sam was slow speeds and careful touches and gentle caresses and something almost like the earliest stages of love. Sam was all about worship, about value, about making Castiel feel special and bright in the middle of a dark, angry time. Crowley is rough tugs and aggressive kisses and passionate strokes and too-tight grips on Castiel’s upper arm. Crowley is all about ownership, about control, about making Castiel orgasm so hard he’s momentarily distracted from his problems.</p><p>Crowley is exactly what Castiel is looking for, and probably exactly what he doesn’t need.</p><p>They go several rounds.</p><p>~~</p><p>Castiel wants nothing more than to stay in this warm bed forever. The morning is dark and gray and cold, and here he is safe, protected, loved. Here he doesn’t have to meet the cruel, faceless creatures that await him outside his friend’s house.</p><p>He hides under the blanket and Crowley coaxes him out with promises of cookies and pot. They eat breakfast together in peaceful silence and Crowley makes good – he gives Castiel two bags of weed for free.</p><p>“Alright, what are you planning to do now?” Crowley asks once he hands his friend his third cup of coffee.</p><p>“Hmm?” Castiel asks, still not entirely awake.</p><p>“You’ve got to get back on your feet, mate,” Crowley replies. “What’s your plan?”</p><p>Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t have one. I was just going to go back to work and drown my sorrows in marijuana and alcohol.”</p><p>Crowley sighs exasperatedly. “Alright then. Do you own a suit?”</p><p>“Why do you ask?” Castiel replies suspiciously.</p><p>“I’m going to get you over this boy. You’re coming to this gala I’m attending as my plus one.”</p><p>“There are galas for drug dealers?” Castiel snarks.</p><p>Crowley rolls his eyes. “It’s a favor for a friend,” he replies. “A very wealthy, very important friend.”</p><p>“Oh god,” Castiel groans, realizing that Crowley’s serious. “Please don’t make me, you know I don’t do social events.”</p><p>“Please,” Crowley nearly begs. “I am your friend, and you’re miserable. Please let me do this for you.”</p><p>Castiel takes a deep breath and finishes his coffee. “I will come to your gala.”</p><p>Crowley grins.</p><p>“But!” Castiel exclaims warningly. “I will not hook up with any of your friends. And you owe me big.”</p><p>Crowley snorts. “<em>I </em>owe <em>you</em>, darling? I think you’ve forgotten that I’m dragging you along for the sake of your own mental health.”</p><p>Castiel smirks. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re pretending that it’s for my sake, but really, you need a date. Don’t you?”</p><p>There’s a moment of silence before Crowley slumps in defeat. “Fine, you’re right. This is partially for my own selfish gain. But we are both befitting from it, don’t you forget that.”</p><p>That pulls a dry laugh from Castiel’s lips. “How on-brand of you,” he manages. “Let’s figure out what I’m wearing.”</p><p>~~</p><p>The event is cheerful and bright, nothing like the stuffy, pompous affair Castiel had been expecting. He finds himself almost enjoying it.</p><p>The auction was hilarious, watching all these disgustingly rich people argue each other up to insane sums of money for little trinkets such as some dead white dude’s dentures or a pen that no one can prove Shakespeare ever wrote with.</p><p>By the midway point, Castiel is pleasantly buzzed, on both weed and alcohol. ‘Buzzed’, for him, consists of laughing too loud and being slightly distracted as well as far more cheerful than normal Castiel. He’s leaning against Crowley and at one point even pulls him in and kisses him deeply.</p><p>By the end he’s bordering on <em>drunk</em>. He lost count around the fifth joint and the eighth glass of champagne. Drunk Castiel is sassy and sarcastic, and he’s essentially just roasting everyone he comes into contact with.</p><p>The room is loud and bright and his head is ringing. He just wants to go home… he has to find Crowley first. Shit, Crowley. Where did the motherfucker disappear to? He was right here on Castiel’s arm just… lord, how long ago was it? It was after the Duke of Whereverland but before the lottery tickets…</p><p>He’s just spinning in circles now, trying to find someone or something that looks familiar but everything is yellow and blurry and the room is spinning, and is that the floor or the ceiling? He doesn’t know, but there’s something hard and cold against his back and—</p><p>And that’s Sam Winchester.</p><p>Those kaleidoscopic hazel eyes and the brown hair tied neatly back in a ponytail are unmistakable. And he’s staring right at Cas, with close-cropped green-eyed Mr. Gorgeous by his side. And then he’s crossing the room, leaving Dean behind, and people part for him because he’s tall and he moves with purpose. It only takes him a few long strides and within seconds he’s at Castiel’s side, grabbing Castiel’s upper arm, and <em>fuck</em>, Cas had forgotten how amazing it felt to be close to him, how wonderful his warm strong hands feel against him…</p><p>He’s leaning against Sam, not even realizing it until Sam pulls him all the way into his chest and hugs him, and then Cas is crying, sobbing really, against Sam’s shirt, just trying to keep him close, to apologize. If he were in his right mind he’d be embarrassed but as it is he doesn’t even notice all the people stopping to stare at him as he clings to Sam like a child to his mother.</p><p>“Sam,” he gasps through his waterfall of tears. “Sam, I’m— I’m so sorry, I—”</p><p>“Shh,” Sam whispers. “Just breathe, Cas. It’s gonna be okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay.”</p><p>Cas rests his head against Sam’s shoulder and takes deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and his pounding head. And then the night changes directions again.</p><p>“Castiel, darling,” Crowley says, emerging from the crowd. “How are— oh, hullo.”</p><p>Cas blinks and looks at him. “Crowley,” he slurs. “This is Sam. Sam, this is Crowley, my—”</p><p>“Boyfriend,” Crowley interrupts, extending a hand with a devilish grin. “I’m Castiel’s boyfriend.”</p><p>Sam pulls away from Cas quickly. “Then you can hold him up,” he snaps. He stares at Cas. “Didn’t realize I was so easily replaced.”</p><p><em>No one said you were ever my boyfriend,</em> Castiel wants to say, but he can’t. He just allows himself to sag against his friend and watch sadly as Sam walks back to his brother, then grabs him by the arm and drags him out the door. Cas doesn’t miss the death glare Dean shoots at him as they walk away.</p><p>He slides down the pillar and onto the floor. He sits there, holding his knees, and buries his face in his arms. “I’m a failure, Crowley,” he mumbles to the floor. “I’m horrible.”</p><p>Crowley reaches for his arm, but he pulls away instantly. “You are too,” he hisses. “You told him I’m your boyfriend, I’m <em>not your boyfriend!</em>” he screams. “I’ve never wanted to be your boyfriend, and you only said that to make things harder with the guy I actually love!”</p><p>Crowley stares at him in shock. “Castiel, I—”</p><p>“Get out of my sight,” Cas breathes, his voice trembling with anger. “Go away.”</p><p>“I was just trying to get back at him—”</p><p>“Go away!” Castiel repeats, his voice so loud it stops all conversation in the room. He collapses, breathing heavily, staring up at Crowley with dark, rage-filled eyes.</p><p>Crowley watches him for a moment, then walks away.</p><p>Castiel stumbles to his feet and hails a cab to take him back home.</p><p>~~</p><p>He wakes up around noon the following day. Gabriel is knocking insistently on his front door. He can’t be bothered to get out of his bed so he just pulls out his phone and texts him. <em>Go ahead and come inside. I’m upstairs.</em></p><p>A few minutes later, Gabriel appears in Castiel’s doorway. He scoffs and grabs his arm. “We’ve already been through this once with your boyfriend, Cassie-boy, we aren’t doing it again. Grow a pair of ovaries and go talk to him.”</p><p>Cas rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Gabriel, do you have a sensitive bone in your body?” he snaps.</p><p>“Not at the moment!” Gabriel screams in exasperation. “For the love of our beautiful deceased mother just deal with your emotional constipation <em>before I rip you to shreds</em>!”</p><p>Castiel stares at him in uncomprehending awe. “I—” He takes a deep breath. “Gabriel,” he murmurs quietly when he calms. “I love you very much.”</p><p>Gabriel snorts in self-deprecation. “Why?” he asks incredulously.</p><p>Castiel places a hand on his shoulder. “Because you always care about me, even when I do not care about myself.”</p><p>Gabriel stares down at the floor. “Well… it’s not hard. You care about everyone else. Makes everyone else sort of automatically want to care about you.”</p><p>Castiel just laughs and pulls him in, rubbing his back gently. “Thank you, Gabriel,” he whispers. “Thank you for being so good to me.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs and relaxes into it. “Anytime, brother,” he manages. “I’ll never leave you.”</p><p>“I know,” is Castiel’s only response. “I know you won’t.”</p><p>~~</p><p>Over the years, Castiel Novak has had many lovers.</p><p>Most notable are the following (in the order in which they came about):</p>
<ul>
<li>Ezekiel Penikett. Castiel met him when he was seventeen at a gay bar in Pleasant Grove, Kansas, a small town just south of Lawrence. They struck up a conversation about bees and soon discovered that they both lived in the same town and were in Pleasant Grove visiting family at the same time. They chose to go home together and finally decided to begin a relationship that ended, as you are all aware, with Ezekiel’s untimely demise several years later, less than one full day after his legal wedding to Castiel.</li>
<li>Megara ‘Meg’ Masters. She was about twenty-four when Castiel met her, but was very, very eager to fall into bed with him. He managed to fend her off for a while, but ultimately decided <em>why not</em> and they had a few wild weeks together. Despite – as he would be the first to admit – having greatly enjoyed the sex, Castiel was not attracted to her in the way that he is attracted to men. Their time together was fun, but proved unequivocally (to Castiel, at least) that he is gay.</li>
<li>Fergus ‘Crowley’ MacLeod. They had been friends since they were in high school together, when Crowley became a weed dealer on the side to make money to support his struggling mother and began to fall into bed together around Castiel’s thirty-seventh birthday. They both agreed that there was no romance to be had there; they served a good function for each other as friends, confidantes, and a reliable source of orgasms when none could be found elsewhere. Neither was interested in falling in love with the other.</li>
<li>And finally, Sam Winchester. This very tale chronicles the story of how Castiel Novak met Sam Winchester. Sam Winchester is, after Ezekiel, the greatest love of Castiel’s life. To this day, Castiel wonders if he would have been able to be with Sam at all had he not lost Ezekiel; he learned many important things about himself and his relationships through the pain of watching the man he loved die. And he found him again in Sam. He could not be more grateful. And, as I am sure you’ve guessed, Castiel and Sam do find their happy ending. Worry not, friends, for that time is nearly upon us.…</li>
</ul>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Castiel!” Michael calls across the office floor. Castiel looks up from his papers. “You’re going back into the courtroom.” His brother drops a clip of loose-leaf paper on the desk next to him. “Read up. We need you on this case.”</p><p>Castiel raises an eyebrow. “What’s the turnaround?”</p><p>“Thursday,” Michael informs him.</p><p>Castiel hisses through his teeth; four days isn’t a lot of time to familiarize himself with the case and Michael knows this; what’s his play? “Who’s the defense?” he inquires.</p><p>Michael shakes his head. “I’ll tell you, but you aren’t gonna like it.”</p><p>Castiel is instantly on edge. Zachariah? Naomi? Metatron? A few names flash across his mind as he speaks – “I didn’t like Thursday, so give it to me straight, I’m sure I can handle it” – but he never even considers…</p><p>“Sam Winchester.”</p><p><em>Idiot, Castiel</em>, he berates himself harshly. <em>Goddamn motherfucking absolute idiot. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—</em></p><p>He sighs. “And I suppose this is an order, not a request?”</p><p>Michael purses his lips. “I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that, but no, you don’t have any choice in this assignment.”</p><p>Castiel just nods. “Thank you, sir. I need time to work now.”</p><p>Michael takes that for the dismissal that it so clearly is and steps away from his desk before disappearing down the hall. Castiel hangs his head limply from his shoulders for several minutes before forcing himself to sit up and examine these new papers he’s been given.</p><p>~~</p><p>Rape case. Rape cases are tricky, especially as the prosecution of a man. And a cis white man at that. He has a feeling that Sam doesn’t particularly want to take this man’s defense, but as he has indicated many times, defending black youth at a flat rate of no charge doesn’t put food on the table or keep a roof over his head; he’ll have to make some concessions.</p><p>Castiel puts together the best case he can with the time and information that he has and prepares to enter the courtroom on Thursday.</p><p>He truly didn’t expect his world to be rocked so when he saw Sam again.</p><p>But here he is, staring at him pathetically from the other side of the courtroom. The first time they make eye contact, Castiel grins at him like an idiot and Sam looks away immediately. Castiel’s heart sinks into his stomach as he remembers Sam may never forgive him. From Sam’s point of view, Castiel was lying to and manipulating him the entire time. He can’t even know whether Castiel was actually attracted to him or if he was simply trying to get Sam to open up.</p><p>Castiel knows the feeling, and he hates being the reason Sam has to feel it.</p><p>He can’t talk to his friend – if they even qualify as such anymore – about it because he knows Sam will shut him down. He can’t apologize. He can’t explain. He must live and suffer in silence with the consequences of his decisions.</p><p>This is what he deserves for thinking he could replace Ezekiel.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You weren’t trying to replace him, you were trying to move on from him.”</p><p>Gabriel does make an excellent point.</p><p>Not trying to replace him, but trying to move on from him. Using Sam as an attempt to heal, to repair, to perhaps become whole again after being rent so from himself for so many long years.</p><p>Not that it matters; he was still using Sam. Sam is right to think him manipulative and cruel; he is. He does not deserve the pure, loving goodness that is Sam Winchester.</p><p>He will never deserve another good thing.</p><p>He voices this thought to his brother, and Gabriel sighs, shaking his head. “Cassie,” he says. “You give yourself too much credit for all the wrong things.”</p><p>In later years, he’ll tell Castiel that he thinks that’s the first time anyone has voiced that particular concept in a way that got through to him. He’ll explain that something appeared in Castiel’s eyes, a sort of spark – call it hope, or life, or a lifting of responsibility – that had been rekindled for the first time in two decades. But now, not knowing any of that, Castiel responds the way he knows how.</p><p>Which is to say, he lights a blunt, pours a mug of tea, and doesn’t respond.</p><p>Gabriel pulls him into a hug, however, and Castiel’s eyes water. “I love you so very, very much,” he gasps. Gabriel nods sympathetically and kisses his hair.</p><p>“I know, Cassie. Believe me, I know.”</p><p>They stay there together for a long while, and Gabriel doesn’t allow Castiel to feel bad for needing help.</p><p>~~</p><p>Four days after the case concludes, Castiel wakes up to… quite the surprise.</p><p>
  <em>1 new voicemail – Sam Winchester</em>
</p><p>He bites his bottom lip as his finger hovers over the delete button, but in a moment of weakness he presses play instead.</p><p>“H- hey Castiel. Cazzzzzztieeeeeeeeel. Heh heh. I like your name.”</p><p>Sam is drunk.</p><p>Amazing. Sam drunk-dialed him to tell him his name is nice.</p><p>“Iz preeeeeeeetty. You’re pretty. Your stupid… jerk face with your jerk eye blues- uhh… blue eyes and your jerk pretty lips. Stupid pretty gorgeous funny talented sexy lawyer-types.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyebrows are practically knitting themselves together. What is <em>going on?</em></p><p>“I’m an idiot, Castiel. I such… I’m such an idiot… for loving in- for falling in love with you. Wasn’t supposed to, that was such a… such a dick move. But you know what was a bigger… dickier move? You, you, you- you <em>knew </em>how I felt… and you slept with me anyway. What’m I, just a… night-one… one-night stand to you?”</p><p>“No…” Castiel whispers, despite knowing that Sam can’t hear him. “I wanted you forever.”</p><p>“You should… you should come back.” Sam laughs here, like he’s told himself a joke no one else would get. “If you walked… into my firm and me- and told me you still wanted me I’d be too dumb to refuse. I’d follow you anywhere… even to my own doom.”</p><p>Suddenly, his voice gets very loud. “DOOM!” he yells, causing Castiel to flinch, and in the background there are mouth-made explosion effects. So Sam wasn’t alone when he sent this. “That’s where you’re leading me Caz-tee-el. Gonna doom. Gonna… gonna… gonna… gonna die. Gonna die for you. Gonna die loving you, you… stupid beautiful angel of a man.”</p><p>Castiel’s phone falls to the floor as he drops his head into his hands. Sam’s voice is hushed as he says his last nine words.</p><p>“I wish I didn’t love you like it hurt.”</p><p>There’s a rustling sound on the other end, followed by inaudible shouting, then a click. And silence.</p><p>“Sam,” Castiel sobs. “I’m so, so sorry Sam. I didn’t want to hurt you this way.”</p><p>It takes a few more seconds for the content of the voicemail to catch up with him and then the realization washes over him all at once, unflinching and merciless as an ice-cold shower in the middle of January. <em>Sam loves him.</em></p><p>Sam loves him. Sam still wants him.</p><p>Could Sam forgive him? Could Sam ever let go of the things he’s done?</p><p>Cas pulls his pillow into his chest, sobs into it for a while. He punches a hole in the plaster of his wall – there goes the deposit – and manages to crawl his way downstairs to drink a mug of tea and contemplate the horribly monumental cacophony of poor life choices that led him to this moment, sitting in his kitchen wearing nothing but boxers and a pair of socks, drinking tea, contemplating his life choices.</p><p>He sighs and slumps into a chair, finishes his tea in one long gulp, and then reaches for his blunt. He sticks it between his teeth and he’s seconds from lighting it when Sam’s words ring in his ears.</p><p>
  <em>Get clean, Castiel.</em>
</p><p>The memory of the resigned look on Sam’s face is bad enough, but the quietly disappointed tone of voice Sam used is what shoves him over the edge. He flips his lighter closed and sets it on the table, then pulls the roll of paper out from between his teeth and flicks it across the room with two fingers. It skitters across the floor and comes to rest under a cabinet.</p><p><em>Gabriel, I’m going to rehab, </em>he thinks to himself, and he imagines he can hear his brother’s response.</p><p>
  <em>I’m so proud of you, Cassie.</em>
</p><p>He smiles softly.</p><p>Maybe he can turn some things around, with or without Sam.</p><p>~~</p><p><em>July 29, 2020 - 18:32<br/>
</em><strong>From: </strong>Sam Winchester (sjwinchester@samwlaw.com)<br/>
<strong>To:</strong> Castiel Novak (castielnovak@novakrep.org)</p><p>
  <strong>Sincerest Apologies</strong>
</p><p>Castiel,</p><p>When I came to the other day and discovered the voicemail that I had left for you, I was appalled at myself. I would like you to know that anything I may have said in that message I said in error; I was grieving and impaired and I should not have done what I did. I will refrain from contacting you in the future. I promise that this was an isolated incident that will not be repeated.</p><p>Many thanks,<br/>
Sam Winchester, SJD (he/him)<br/>
Sam Winchester Law Firm<br/>
www.samwlaw.com</p><p>~~</p><p>It’s mid-August when Castiel sees Sam again. He discovers that Sam’s brother Dean frequents a bar that he likes to attend, and one boring evening discovers the two of them sitting at a table not far from his own barstool, conversing in low tones. He watches them with a mixture of apprehension and fondness. He misses having that closeness with Sam.</p><p>Then Sam’s eyes flick up and meet his, and surprise makes itself evident on his face. He quickly replaces it with his carefully calculated emotionless mask and turns back to his brother, obviously pretending – whether for Castiel’s sake or his own – not to have noticed Castiel’s presence there at all.</p><p>So Castiel does something rash, impulsive, and incredibly fucking stupid; he walks over to Sam’s table and rests a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Hello, Sam,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly whisper. Sam purses his lips and looks up.</p><p>“Castiel,” he greets formally. “Please leave, we were having a private conversation.”</p><p>“Sam, I—”</p><p>“I asked you to go,” Sam says again, his eyes narrowing and his voice sharpening. “If you want to preserve any shred of the relationship we used to have, I recommend you do as I asked.”</p><p>Castiel steps back, accepting that for the well-deserved reprimand it is. “I am sorry, Sam,” he sighs. “I just wanted to tell you that… I love you too.”</p><p>He turns away and walks out of the bar, back toward his car, toward his home, toward the comfort and safety of the world he’s known for so many years and the boundaries he’s never allowed himself to leave for exactly this reason—</p><p>A hand falls onto his shoulder this time, and pulls him around forcefully.</p><p>“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Sam demands, staring him down. Behind him, Cas can see Dean silhouetted in the doorway, paying for their drinks.</p><p>“Home,” he replies. “You asked me to leave.”</p><p>“No, no, no,” Sam says. “You can’t just— you can’t say something like that and walk away, that’s not fair, Castiel!”</p><p>Cas sucks air in through his teeth in preparation before he launches into a tirade he didn’t know he had in him. All the anger and guilt and blame he’s been transforming, redirecting to himself for the last few weeks because <em>Sam can’t have done anything wrong </em>comes flooding out of him all at once. “And I suppose you’ve been entirely fair to me? Cutting me off, never giving me a chance to explain or to defend myself? I suppose it’s completely fair to toy with me, to never be quite clear enough about how you feel for me to be honest about how I do? All of that is perfectly fair and kind and good, isn’t it?”</p><p>Sam stares at him. “Cas, I— no, that’s not it at all!”</p><p>“Then what is it, Sam?” Cas snaps. “Please, tell me, I would love to know.”</p><p>Instead of retreating like Cas expected, Sam seems to get angrier. He’s fired up now, and nothing’s going to stop him until this runs its course; that much is crystal clear to Cas.</p><p>“Look, Cas, this isn’t your fantasy world where you can control all the pieces and make them exactly like you want!” he yells. His eyes appear nearly yellow in the dark of the cloudless night sky that shrouds them, obscuring them from the rest of the world in deep blue mist. “This is real life, and real people have real feelings and react in real ways that you can’t predict and your real actions have real consequences so <em>stop acting like you’re blameless!</em>”</p><p>“I have done nothing to indicate that I am blameless,” Castiel contradicts. “I have spent every day since you left me <em>drowning</em> in my own guilt over this. I didn’t want to hurt you, Sam, I have very real feelings for you. I want you always to be safe and happy and loved and protected. I want you to know that you belong to yourself and that I will never try to take your autonomy from you. I wanted to believe that you understood me like no one ever did, save Ezekiel, but—”</p><p>“I’m not Ezekiel!” Sam sobs. “I’m not him, okay, so stop comparing me to him.”</p><p>Castiel sighs. “Goodbye, Sam,” he whispers, and then he slides into his car and slams the door shut. He bangs the heels of his hands on his steering wheel in frustration.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouts, collapsing forward onto the horn.</p><p>He stays there until long after the sun comes up.</p><p>~~</p><p>“Hello, this is Castiel with Novak Represents. Who am I speaking with, please?”</p><p>“Wait, what did you mean by <em>too</em>?”</p><p>~~</p><p>“Play it again.”</p><p>Sam Winchester is sitting in Castiel’s living room, staring resolutely at the black screen of the inactive television with his palms pressed together, lips pursed, elbows resting on his knees.</p><p>“Sam, you’ve heard it six times. You know what you said, what more do you need?” Castiel sighs exasperatedly.</p><p>“I just need you to play it one more time to pinpoint the person who’s doing an impression of me so I can track them down and murder them,” Sam says casually. Castiel rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Samuel Winchester, you are a lawyer. I sincerely doubt that that would go over well in a court of law. And besides, this is not someone doing an impression, this was you.”</p><p>“How would you know?” Sam asks with just a touch of bitterness in his voice. “You barely know me.”</p><p>Castiel rolls his eyes again. “Because Dean was with you when this happened and he confirmed that you said all of these things.”</p><p>Sam inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and slumps into a chair.</p><p>“I don’t want that to be me,” he says after a long silence, looking out the window to avoid seeing his friend’s face, “because then I have to deal with your response to that. And I don’t want to see it.”</p><p>Castiel walks over to him and kneels in front of him. “Sam,” he murmurs. “Did you mean anything you said in that email? Would you, sober you, actually think any of those things?”</p><p>Sam shakes his head, closing his eyes against the onslaught of Castiel’s pleading blue eyes. Finally, a single word falls from his lips, followed by a lengthy confession. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yeah, Cas, I’m in love with you, and I think you’re amazing and gorgeous and perfect and I want to be with you forever but you hurt me <em>so much</em> and I’m so stupid because I let you take advantage of me just like everyone else does and I thought you were better, I thought you were different than the other people, but you aren’t really, you’re just… better at hiding it. And it stings, thinking about you, thinking about how close I let you and how easily, and how badly I wanted because <em>fuck, </em>Cas, I wanted it. I still do, I still want you, I would fall back into your arms right this second if you asked me to which is why I’ve stayed away. You hurt me. I keep having to remind myself that. You hurt me…”</p><p>Castiel gently places a hand on Sam’s knee. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he breathes, and he feels tears burning the back of his throat. “I didn’t want to hut you, Sam, I wanted nothing more than to make you happy. I could’ve— I should’ve done better by you, I’m so so sorry. I just want—”</p><p>And the tears make their grand entrance, spilling silently down his cheeks, choking up his sentences as his voice thickens with emotion. “I want to start over,” he gasps. “Can we start over, Sam? Can you give me another shot at your heart?”</p><p>Sam looks at him stone-facedly for a long time, and with each moment that passes his heart sinks lower in his chest until it comes to rest in the pit of his stomach, a heavy weight like lead. Sam won’t forgive him, he thinks. This will be the end of his second great romance. Maybe a guy like Castiel just isn’t made for romance; perhaps his calling is drugs.</p><p>Then Sam nods and all of those notions shatter like sheets of glass on a stone floor. Sam pulls Cas up, into his lap, and Cas braces himself on the back of the couch and looks down at Sam’s beautiful, angular face. “Hi,” he whispers, his eyes still a little puffy, his voice still a little hoarse, his face still a little red. Sam reaches for a napkin and wipes off his shimmering wet cheeks.</p><p>“Hi,” he says back.</p><p>Cas smiles confidently.</p><p>“I feel bad now,” he confesses.</p><p>“I know one thing that will make you feel better,” Sam whispers.</p><p>“What’s that?” Cas asks, his blue eyes darting between the hazel pair in front of him and the lips just below them. Sam laughs.</p><p>“This,” he answers simply, and he tilts back his chin to kiss Cas softly on the mouth.</p><p>~~</p><p>“Tell me it’s real this time,” Sam begs halfway into their make out session. “Promise me, swear on your life that you’re not going to break my heart again.”</p><p>Cas nods and tugs at the bottom hem of Sam’s shirt. “I will never hurt you again,” he promise, kissing Sam’s shoulder. “Not if I can help it.”</p><p>Sam wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist and his arms around Castiel’s neck. “I believe you,” he murmurs, and pulls his new old lover down again.</p><p>~~</p><p>Sam and Castiel go on a date.</p><p>A real one, this time.</p><p>“I remember wishing our last meal together was a real date like this,” Cas breathes as he looks at Sam’s beautiful face over a plate of salmon. “I kept wanting to kiss you or hold your hand and forcing myself not to. I’m glad that I can now.”</p><p>Sam grins and takes Cas’s hand, as if given an invitation. “I’m glad we can now, too,” he says happily, grinning across the table at his boyfriend.</p><p>“Sam?” Cas says softly.</p><p>“Hm?” Sam replies.</p><p>“I love you,” Castiel says factually.</p><p>Sam snorts softly and kisses Cas’s knuckles. “You know something?” he says nonchalantly.</p><p>“Yes, Sam?” Castiel asks in amusement, smiling at him. Sam chuckles.</p><p>“I might just love you too,” Sam replies.</p><p>Castiel grins at him and squeezes his hand before releasing it to eat his dinner. It’s been far too long since he had anything to celebrate, but he does now. He’s nearly a month clean, he has a beautiful new boyfriend who really truly does love him, and they’re going to make it through the rest of their lives together. Things are good.</p><p>Perhaps there are, after all, reasons to fight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel Novak does not want to get married again.</p><p>He’s made this one decision for himself; he won’t close himself off from love, but he’ll never remarry. Sam supports him in this entirely; they had one conversation about it where Cas made his feelings clear, Sam indicated that he understood, and Sam has never pressed him about it since.</p><p>Castiel will not marry again.</p><p>
  <em>~~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Family don’t end in blood.</em>
</p><p>These are the words embroidered on the tapestry of the Winchester family crest when Castiel finds it hanging in Sam’s bedroom.</p><p>“What’s this?” he asks his boyfriend. Sam chuckles.</p><p>“That was a project I did in Home Ec in the eighth grade. ‘Create a crest for your family’. That right there is the outline of the gun, here’s the shield. I did it in rust red and dark green because Dean’s eyes are green and I just thought the red paired nicely with it.”</p><p>“Where did the saying come from?” Cas asks, running his thumb over the carefully stitched golden lettering.</p><p>Sam smiles softly at him. “My dad,” he murmurs.</p><p>Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought he was dead?”</p><p>Sam shakes his head. “No, not my father. Dean and I moved in with a friend of our father’s when he lost custody. His name’s Bobby and by all rights, he’s our real dad. This was what he said about it when we told him we wanted him to adopt us, and it’s the motto I live by.” He looks at Castiel with eyes sparkling. “You’re part of our little chosen family now, too.”</p><p>Cas raises one eyebrow in faint amusement. “Do I get a choice in this?”</p><p>Sam dips his head to kiss him deeply. “Not at all,” he breathes when they part.</p><p>~~</p><p>Never.</p><p>Not at all.</p><p>Not even if he does think Sam would look gorgeous in a tux.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You should take him to meet Bobby,” Dean teases one night at dinner. Castiel hasn’t technically moved in with Sam yet, but he spends most of his time there, most of his nights there, eats most of his meals there, and has begun to encroach on their family movie nights. (He and Sam still go out for dates, though.)</p><p>Sam glances at Cas with a question in his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Do you want to?</em>
</p><p>Cas looks down at his plate. He doesn’t <em>not</em>, but every time he thinks of doing the meet-the-parents he can’t help seeing Ezekiel’s family. Sweet old Amara and Billie. He remembers their faces like it was yesterday, he has their voices ingrained in his mind. The day he met them, they hugged him like he was their own child, kissed his head, held him close. They fed him all his favorite foods and told him stories about Ezekiel’s childhood and extended him an open invitation to stay with them if he ever needed to.</p><p>The day his husband died, they were with him in the hospital room. The looks of devastation on their faces crushed him into pieces. The way Amara pretended to be strong but collapsed into Billie’s shoulder as they left the room. The way her sobs echoed down the hallway, little broken gasps of air—</p><p>“Cas?” Sam asks, sounding concerned. One of his hands rests on Cas’s back. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Cas swallows hard and looks up at them. “I’m— I’m sorry, Sam, I just…” he trails off and Sam nods.</p><p>“Ezekiel,” he whispers. “I get it.”</p><p>Cas nods. “It’s not a no,” he finally says. “I just… need time.” But they both know he’s had twenty years and maybe it’s faded but it hasn’t faded much. They both know it’s probably a no.</p><p>~~</p><p>Even if he wasn’t so incredibly traumatized, he wouldn’t have the money. He’s been largely providing for Sam and Dean since they barely have anything to live off of, and his funds are trickling away. He doesn’t need money for happiness, but he would need money for a wedding.</p><p>~~</p><p><em>December 09, 2020 – 04:18</em><strong><br/>To: </strong>Gabriel Novak (gabrielnovak@novakrep.org)<br/><strong>From:</strong> Castiel Novak (castielnovak@novakrep.org)</p><p>
  <strong>HELP ME</strong>
</p><p>Gabriel,</p><p>Sam wants me to meet his dad. Not his dead one, his adopted one. Dean wants me to as well. I don’t know what to say to them or what I should do. I’m afraid, Gabriel. I’m terrified. I want to make them happy but what if I lose them like I lost Ezekiel? What if I lose Sam? I can’t lose him, Gabriel…</p><p>Please, I need your advice.</p><p>Yours in crisis,<br/>Castiel Novak, SJD (he/him)<br/>Associate Attorney, Sam Winchester Law Firm<br/>www.samwlaw.com</p><p> </p><p><em>December 09, 2020 – 11:46</em><strong><br/>From: </strong>Gabriel Novak (gabrielnovak@novakrep.org)<br/><strong>To:</strong> Castiel Novak (castielnovak@novakrep.org)</p><p>
  <strong>RE: HELP ME</strong>
</p><p>Cassie, what the fuck. Like actually. What. The literal. Fuck.</p><p>Don’t freak out about this, child. You are <em>fine</em>. Sammo loves you. He’ll understand if you can’t go meet his dad and he’ll understand if you want to. He just wants <em>you</em> to be happy.</p><p>And hey. Just remember, Sam is not Ezekiel. And no matter how much your trauma-brain wants to oversimplify things, just because you lost Zekey doesn’t mean you’ll lose Sam. You will be okay, I promise. No matter how bad you think things have gotten, you will be alright.</p><p>I’m right here, kiddo. I love you. I’ll take care of you.</p><p>P.S. How the fuck do you still have access to this email address? You quit your job like two months ago!!</p><p>Gabriel Novak, MLS (he/him they/them)<br/>Senior Staff Member<br/>Novak Represents Law Firm<br/>www.novakrep.org</p><p> </p><p><em>December 09, 2020 – 12:15<br/></em><strong>From:</strong> Castiel Novak (castielnovak@novakrep.org)<strong><br/>To:</strong> Gabriel Novak (gabrielnovak@novakrep.org)</p><p>
  <strong>RE: HELP ME</strong>
</p><p>Thank you, Gabriel. I did some mindfulness and meditation and I feel calmer. You’re right, my trauma is overwhelming me; previous experiences do not dictate the outcome of future ones.</p><p>I’m going to meet Sam and Dean’s dad. Sam is a wonderful and perfect partner to me, and Dean has proven a steadfast and loyal friend. I am incredibly lucky to have them both in my life, and I would like to see where they came from.</p><p>I love you too, my brother. Thank you for helping me through this.</p><p>P.S. Michael said I could keep it. It’s easier than creating one for Sam’s firm.</p><p>Love,<br/>Castiel Novak, SJD (he/him)<br/>Associate Attorney, Sam Winchester Law Firm<br/>www.samwlaw.com</p><p>~~</p><p>The email conversation makes it plainer to him than ever that he is not emotionally prepared to handle marriage. He loves Sam; that will be enough for them both. He squashes his fantasies of proposing to his boyfriend and focuses on moving forward.</p><p>~~</p><p>“You ready?” Sam asks, squeezing his hand gently. Castiel smiles at him and nods once.</p><p>“As I’ll ever be,” he chuckles.</p><p>Neither of them needs to put voice to the thought to know that Cas is feeling doubtful and afraid. Sam can read it in the set of his jaw, his adversarial stance. He knows Cas needs extra reassurance, and he lives to provide. Castiel is endlessly grateful for him.</p><p>Cas lets go of Sam’s hand only long enough to step out of the car and then he’s at Sam’s side again. Sam locks the car with his non-dominant hand because Cas won’t give him any wiggle room on his right.</p><p>“Thank you, Sam,” Cas murmurs, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.</p><p>“For what?” Sam hums. “You’re doing this for me.”</p><p>Cas nods. “I know,” he replies. “But you’re the one who let me know that I didn’t have to. I’m doing this because I’m comfortable, because I want to, not because I feel pressured. I’m here because you’ve never been anything but good to me. I love you so very much, Sam.”</p><p>Sam stops walking and turns to face him, his free hand coming up to cup Cas’s chin. “I love you very much as well,” he says, grinning, and when their lips meet, it’s with a hungry sort of fire that banishes the sharp, cold winter air around them and fuels them, sustaining them when they pull away. Cas looks up at his boyfriend, breathless.</p><p>“You are an absolute marvel,” he declares, his voice nothing but an awed whisper. Sam even has the audacity to laugh.</p><p>“Nah, I just know you really well,” he says.</p><p>Cas stays close to him as they make their way into the house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. “Bobby?” Sam calls out. “You home?”</p><p>“Sam?” calls a gruff, older voice from somewhere in the house. “’Zat you?”</p><p>Sam grins. “Hey, Bobby,” he laughs, pulling Cas into a living space. Castiel’s eyes float around the room, taking everything in, and then come to rest on an older man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties with a full beard sitting behind a desk.</p><p>“Who’s this?” he asks in a deep Southerner voice.</p><p>“Bobby,” Sam says softly. “This is my boyfriend, Castiel.”</p><p>Cas smiles and waves at him.</p><p>“Cas, this is my dad, Bobby Singer.”</p><p>“Wonderful to meet you,” Cas says, extending a hand. Bobby takes it and shakes it once.</p><p>“Good to meetcha too,” he replies, standing. “I dunno what Sam’s told you ‘bout me, but hopefully good things.”</p><p>Cas smiles. “Entirely,” he confirms. “Sam admires you very much.” He risks a glance at the boy and finds his face shining with a happy grin. He slips his hand into Sam’s and squeezes affectionately.</p><p>Sam glances at him. “Don’t hafta expose me like that,” he mutters, still smiling. He receives a playful nudge in return.</p><p>“Don’t gotta make me vomit,” Bobby grumbles, but beneath his mask of vague contempt he looks proud. “So you’re the boy been makin’ my son glow like the sun, huh?” He walks around the desk to look at Cas straight in the face. “I think we can find a place for you. C’mon, let’s have a drink.”</p><p>He walks past them into the next room and Cas shoots Sam a look. Sam nods slightly, contentment sparkling in his eyes, and Cas knows that they’ll be okay.</p><p>~~</p><p>But…</p><p>There’s a part of him that wants to pledge his love for Sam in front of everyone they care about anyway.</p><p>He reminds himself that there are other ways he can do that.</p><p>~~</p><p>They spend Christmas with Bobby, drinking spiked eggnog and singing drunken carols, decorating the whole house with tinsel and bells, and Cas kisses Dean under the mistletoe just to make Sam jealous.</p><p>(If the passionate, hot, possessive sex they have that night is anything to go by, it works.)</p><p>Dean and Bobby pretend not to notice them flirting in the corner or playing footsie under the table at meals, and they are definitely pretending not to hear the sounds that echo through the upstairs at night.</p><p>Cas and Sam are happy, and Dean and Bobby are happy for them. That’s enough.</p><p>And as they climb back into Sam’s eco-friendly little car on January second, Cas realizes that this is the first Christmas he’s had where he got a gift, felt warm and safe and welcome, wasn’t hurt or guilt-tripped, and was able to be happy.</p><p>He’s very, very glad it was with Sam.</p><p>~~</p><p>He moves into Sam and Dean’s house. They cohabitate easily, like they’ve lived together for years. They adjust to each other’s schedules and move around each other in a practiced sort of dance. Sam will make bacon for his brother and boyfriend before either of them is awake and have it sitting on the table with coffee for each of them. He’ll hug Dean and kiss Cas before settling into his chair between them and they eat breakfast in comfortable silence before preparing for their day.</p><p>Cas starts to notice himself relaxing, releasing his stress and anxiety, and starting to feel safe again, in Sam’s house, in Sam’s arms, in Sam’s life. His nightmares start to regress, he flashes back less frequently, and slowly over time he learns that he doesn’t have to be afraid this time.</p><p>He finds his happy ending with Sam Winchester.</p><p>~~</p><p>
  <em>April 19<sup>th</sup>, 2021</em>
</p><p>“Sam,” Cas chokes out to his boyfriend when they retreat into their bedroom after breakfast. “I have an errand to run today. It shouldn’t take too long, but I don’t want you to worry.”</p><p>“What do you need?” Sam asks, pulling on a shirt.</p><p>Cas takes a deep breath. “I’m going to visit Ezekiel’s grave. Today is the twenty-first anniversary of his death.”</p><p>Sam’s face clouds over with concern. “Oh,” he whispers. He reaches out and takes Cas’s hand. “You shouldn’t have to go alone.”</p><p>Cas shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”</p><p>“You’re not asking,” Sam reminds him. “You’re just letting me do the thing I offered to do.”</p><p>Cas swallows hard. “Alright,” he manages. “Thank you, Sam. You’re always so good to me.”</p><p>Sam smiles gently and kisses his forehead. “You make it easy,” he replies softly.</p><p>~~</p><p>Sam makes a detour to Target and they walk through the flowers aisle until they find a bouquet of dark pink roses (for gratitude and appreciation) and poppies (for remembrance). Sam pays for it with his credit card, despite Cas’s weak protests, and then they’re on their way to the graveyard.</p><p>Cas walks slowly through the rows upon rows of headstones, feeling sorrow and regret for all these people who were taken from their families, just as Ezekiel was taken from Castiel. Finally, he approaches his husband’s grave and kneels in the wet ground in front of it.</p><p>He sets the flowers at the base of the marble and hangs his head.</p><p>“Hey, Zeke,” he whispers. “I have a lot of things to tell you, things I’ve… never actually said before. I was too ashamed to admit this to you.”</p><p>He takes a shaky breath and feels Sam’s hand come to rest on his back, reassuring him. The soft, comforting touch gives him the strength he needs to continue.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“After you—” he chokes off, inhales, and tries again. “After I lost you, I was miserable. I was so… so broken, my love, I was ruined. I didn’t know how to cope with it, so I— I turned to drugs. It’s my greatest shame, my deepest regret, I numbed my pain, my love, and my memories with weed and called it freedom. I called it recovery. I thought… I thought I was happy. I thought I was getting better.”</p><p>Sam’s hand travels in a soothing little circle around Cas’s shoulder and the knowledge that Sam is there, supporting him, still loving him, keeps the words streaming from his lips.</p><p>“I wasn’t,” he gasps. “I was just changing my pain, turning it into something else. I wanted to believe that you were watching me, loving me, taking care of me wherever you are but you’re gone, Ezekiel, and I’m still here. It took me so many years to come to grips with that.”</p><p>He reaches up and grasps Sam’s wrist. Sam twists his arm so he can hold Cas’s hand instead. When the elder speaks again, his voice is an awed and happy little whisper.</p><p>“And then I fell in love again.”</p><p>Sam makes a soft sound, despite how hard he’s been obviously trying not to respond.</p><p>“Last year, I found Sam. Sam is… Sam is everything. He’s hardworking and compassionate and fierce and beautiful and strong-willed and an absolutely marvelous lawyer. He won’t fill the hole you left in my heart, but he makes it a little bit smaller, and I’m ready to dedicate every day I have left to making him feel the way you made me feel.</p><p>“I truly believe you would want this for me. That if you still had some sort of consciousness, you would be overwhelmingly happy that I have Sam, that he’s here with me. I think this is all you ever wanted, was my happiness. And I am happy, Ezekiel. I am happier than I’ve been in two decades. I am happier than I have felt since the day we married.”</p><p>He finally turns his head and looks up at his lover.</p><p>“Sam numbs my pain,” he breathes. “Sam takes it and diminishes it, holds it in himself, protects and shields me from it. Sam is the little candle in my heart, fighting off the darkness, banishing the fog of misery that surrounded me for so long. Sam is phenomenal, and strong, and kind, and brilliant, and fantastic. Sam is the only person I can imagine sharing your loss with.”</p><p>He stands shakily and faces his lover. “Thank you, Sam,” he breathes. “I love you.”</p><p>Sam kisses him softly. “I love you too.”</p><p>They turn together and walk away, and behind them, Castiel leaves the piece of Ezekiel he’s been clinging to.</p><p>
  <em>Goodbye.</em>
</p><p>~~</p><p>And Castiel will never marry again, not even Sam Winchester, but he doesn’t need a ring to remind him that he loves and is loved.</p><p>He has Sam to do it for him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you, my lovely, lovely readers, for coming along with me on this adventure. I do want to credit the eternally lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_graham">@kj_graham</a> (<a href="https://until-it-kills-you-both.tumblr.com">@until-it-kills-you-both</a> on tumblr) for betaing the first half of this fic and supporting me through the early stages when I was both insecure about the story and unsure about what I wanted to do with it. I hope she finds this fic and gets to see what I did with her brilliant insight, advice, and encouragement. I guarantee that this fic would not exist without her, nor without my beautiful Momma <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorki_and_other_obsessions">@Thorki_and_Other_Obsessions</a>. Thank you both for being there for me and for helping me achieve this dream that I've been working on for so long.</p><p>And while I'm thanking people, this also wouldn't have been possible without my sweet beanfren <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberamans214">@LiberAmans214</a> (who is <a href="https://misha-moose-dean-burger-lover.tumblr.com">@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover</a> on tumblr) - after all, she gave me the idea, so thank thee muchly Sheya!! It also would still be a lil fetus of a fic if not for <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentrin">my beautiful partner</a> <a href="https://specialagentrin.tumblr.com">Rin</a> who is my my #1 supporter and the person I rely on the most. Sweetheart, you have no idea how much you mean to me and how much you've made my life better and easier. I will love you forever and I will never stop needing you.</p><p>And finally, thank you so much to each and every one of you who clicked on this story - your contributions are just as important as mine. I'm so grateful for all of you, old and new, for joining me.</p><p>Love,<br/>Dean</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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